


Vampire's Secrets - Original Version

by LittleWatty



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-28
Updated: 2008-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 14:59:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11038554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWatty/pseuds/LittleWatty
Summary: This is the original version of my fanfiction, and Raqel's story, but I did not like it after reading it and thus have rewritten it. However, I think its a good idea to read this as well as the new version, just to see how I have changed her character. A bit of this Raqel remains in the new one, but its not as prominent. This version of VS is very detail oriented and sticks very close to the original plot lines that are in the game. That is changed in the second version. Names are also changed slightly, and some characters in this story do not exist in the other.





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

The Night was the 27th of Evening Star, 3E383, 50 years before the threat from Oblivion. Janus Hassildor, Count of Skingrad, and his wife Rona were riding back from a dinner party with the Count of Kvatch. It was a beautiful evening. The moon was full, fireflies buzzed about, lighting their path. Nothing could ruin the moment. Janus and Rona’s horses walked side by side, not a foot apart. “Janus,” Rona started, “We’re young. Why don’t we give up the life of the Count Countess life and do something exciting? Something that we can tell our kids that we did. Something they’d be proud of us for.”

Rona’s question caught Janus off guard. He pulled his horse to a stop. “I thought you always wanted to be a Coutness?” 

“I thought I did. But now I’m not so sure. Sure the attention is great, the food delicious, and the castle lovely. But it’s all so boring!”

“Aren’t going to dinner parties with our friends fun to you?”

“Yeah, they are, but they’re so dull! All we do is eat and talk, talk and eat. I want to go on an adventure, see all the sights, hear all the sounds, smell all the scents Cyrodill has to offer. Don’t you think that would be fun?”

“Sure it would, but we can do that as Count and Countess of Skingrad still. We don’t have to give that up.”

“How are we supposed to be Count and Countess if we’re never there? Uriel or Ocato will just replace us if we’re not there to watch over Skingrad.”

“Well… what if… Damnit, you got me.” Rona put on a smile of satisfaction. “Where do you want to go first?”

“What?” Rona hadn’t expected him to give in so easily. She spurred her horse, making it walk again. Janus did the same.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I.. um… I don’t know…” Rona could tell that Janus didn’t want to give up being Count of Skingrad, but he would do almost anything for her. “I’ve got an idea.”

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Let’s race to Leyawiin. That’ll be a good place to start if any. C’mon. Let’s go!” Rona spurred her horse hard, taking off into the night.

“But- Rona!” Janus couldn’t see Rona in the darkness, so he took off after her. After running blindly down the Gold Road, Janus pulled his horse to a stop. He dismounted and pulled out a torch. He struck it across the ground, lighting it like a match. Grabbing the reins of his horse, Janus walked cautiously forward. “Rona!” he called. “Rona!” He stopped in his tracks when he saw the faint outline of someone on the ground. “Rona?”

As he walked forward, the light illuminated the figure. “Rona!” Janus ran to her side, dropping both the reins and the torch. She was unconscious, but he couldn’t see any signs of what happened to her. “Rona. Rona! Wake up honey. Wake up, it’s me, Janus. Oh Gods, Rona, wake up.”

Janus’ horse perked up its head, then started looking around cautiously. It nickered a low warning, pawing its hoof on the ground. “Rona, please, Rona, wake up. Let’s get you home.” The horse nickered an even louder warning, becoming very impatient with its master. Janus picked up Rona, cradling her between his arms. Only then did he see a small wound on the side of her neck. “Oh no….” His horse neighed loudly, taking off in a random direction. “$!&@#!” Janus shouted angrily. “I’ve got to get you back to Skingrad,” he whispered to Rona. He didn’t care about the two pin-sized puncture wounds on her neck, he just wanted to get her out of there.

The sound of footsteps behind him caused Janus to stop. He quickly whipped around, but saw no one. After taking another quick look, he turned back round. He had walked not much farther when he heard the sound of footsteps again. Janus ignored them, thinking he was just imagining them. He regretted his decision deeply when he was tackled from behind. Rona flew from his arms as he landed on the ground. Janus tried to roll from his stomach to his back, but the weight of his attacker held him down. Finally, he managed to roll onto his back. His face drained of all color when he saw his attacker. Janus was unable to move or do anything before two sharp fangs bit into his neck. He cried out in pain as he felt the blood drain from his neck.

The vampire pulled back its head, letting a little weight off of Janus. With that slip up, Janus was able to mutter a fire tough spell. His hands glowed red as he freed them. His free movement surprised the vampire, not giving it enough time to move before Janus grabbed the sides of it’s face. The vampire’s face cringed in pain as it tried to pull away, but Janus held on tight. As the spell died away, the vampire was able to pull away. It backed up, trying to mutter a healing spell, but Janus had grabbed a loose stone, chicking it at the vampire. The rock struck it square in the forehead. The vampire fell backwards onto the ground.

Janus wearily stood up, making his way over to where Rona lay. He picked her up again, and continued to walk toward Skingrad. Four days later, a legion soldier patrolling the area found Janus face down on the cobblestone, Rona by his side. By that time, the bites on their necks had manifested into something no one in Cyrodill had expected.

 

 

Chapter One

In the Imperial Waterfront, a young imperial woman begged for a coin. “Please! I have nothing else. All I want is one coin!” The Breton woman she had been pleading to just walked off, with her nose high in the air. “Damn woman,” she said under her breath, brushing the hair from her face and tightening her ponytail.

“Don’t you start causing trouble now, Raqel,” said an Imperial Soldier she only knew too well. She was constantly being arrested for assault, but it was never her fault. She was an attractive young imperial with blue-black hair, but a very short fuse. The men from the barges that continually stopped in the waterfront constantly hit on her. “What’s an attractive young woman like you begging for money,” they would say, then smack her ass. This always set her off. She’s choked a man, punched one, knocked on out cold, and even grabbed a man’s dagger and nearly killed him.

The Legion Soldier, Norov, was always the one on duty. He’d comprehend her, only having to chase her down once, and bring her to the prison. She never had to stay long, often only a day or two, the guards normally let her off easy. Only once did she have to stay for more than a week.

“Just leave me be, unless you want to give me money,” she scowled.

“I don’t have anything for you, beggar!” he shot back.

“Then leave me alone you imperial scum!”

“I wouldn’t be talking Raqel, you’re an imperial too!”

“‘You’re an imperial too’,” she mocked him. “Do you think I give a damn! Just because I’m an imperial doesn’t mean I don’t think of myself as the dirt on someone else’s shoes!” Raqel’s face was beat red as she stormed off through the archway to her bedroll.

Norov actually did feel sorry for her. She was young, alone, and had no money. That short fuse of hers was going to get her into a lot of trouble one day, though he always let her off easy, just because she hadn’t killed anyone. Yet. Although she almost did once. She would get into a lot of trouble if she beat someone while one of the stricter guards where on duty. She could possibly go away for a few years, depending on what she did and who was on duty.

What’s worse, if Hieronymus Lex caught her doing something, he’d put her away for good, thinking she was part of the Thieves Guild. He’d not only arrest her, he’d interrogate her, possibly torture her, and maybe even turn her against the Thieves Guild, if she was a part of them. She’d have to be careful.

Raqel returned to her bedroll and small bag of belongings. She slumped against the white marble wall. She played with the strings hanging from the tear in her sack cloth pants. Puny Ancus came to his bedroll not to much later. “How much did you get today?” he asked her, reaching into his pocked.

“Only two Septims, and I almost got into trouble again,” she snorted.

“I had a good day today. I got 10 coins!” he cheered.

“Good for you,” she scowled. The sun was getting low now, Armand Cristophe would be coming soon to give them the lowdown on the Gray Fox and their daily ration of food. Raqel and Ancus grabbed what little food they had from the day before to start making their dinner. Puny Ancus was like a brother to Raqel. She had a brother once, but they were separated when they were young when their parents died. She was a few years older, so she was left to fend on her own, but her brother was too young and was put in an orphanage.

Just as Raqel finished her small ration of bread, a torch light showed around the tall wall concealing the yard they slept in. “Armand shouldn’t be this early,” she noted. “It’s only 7 o’clock.” Raqel and Ancus watched as someone wearing all black clothing rounded the corner. She narrowed her eyes as she watched the figure douse the torch and continue to walk toward them.

“What do you want,” she shot at the figure, who was a female Dunmer, not much older than she.

“I’m looking for the ship the Marie Elena. Tell me where I can find it.” Her red eyes showed a tinge of sympathy for the poor beggars, but were still cold as ice.

“I’m afraid I don’t recognize that name. It’s familiar, but I just can’t seem to remember where it is.” She narrowed her eyes more, with a slight grin on her lips, staring directly into the fireballs filling the Dunmer’s sockets.

“What are you doing!” Puny Ancus whispered. “She’s Dark Brotherhood.! Just look at her clothes!”

“Shut it!”

“Perhaps 15 Septims would jog your memory.”

A glint showed in Raqel’s eye. “Now I remember where it is,” she said as the money exchanged hands. “It’s the only other ship docked here besides the Bloated Float. There‘s a dark elf and two other pirates guarding the outside.”

“Thank you very much,” she grinned, sneaking back off the way she came.

“Why’d you do that! You could have gotten both of us killed!” Ancus shouted at Raqel.

“If we didn’t tell her anything, she would have killed us anyway!” she shot back, anger rising. “So why not just try and make a profit out of it.”

“Why don’t you just make money exchanges with the Thieves Guild members! What if she didn’t want to make a deal with you! Would you have just not told her!”

“No, I’d try and negotiate a price.”

“If she still wouldn’t?”

“Then I’d tell her. Or, depending on my mood, I’d beat the $!&@# out of her.”

“You’re a blood thirsty bitch, you know that,” he joked, brotherly.

“I know, I know.”

Shouts of anger, pain, and determination bounced through the archway to the beggars’ ears. Metal clashing against metal followed. “Sounds like your Dark Brotherhood friend found what she was looking for.”

“Let’s just hope she doesn’t get caught and tell the guards that we told here where to find the Marie Elena. For your sake.”

“We? Our? You’re the one who told here where to find the ship, knowing the was Dark Brotherhood! You’re the one whose going to get in trouble if she gets caught.” The dark elf dashed from behind the archway, past the two beggars. Imperial Legion Soldiers were in hot pursuit. There was the sound of splashing water, then she was gone. The Imperial Soldiers returned to their posts, cursing under their breath. One stopped and glanced at the two beggars crowded around their small fire. Pity, he thought to himself.

Raqel noticed the soldier staring at them. “Keep movin’!” she shouted at him. “There’s nothin to see here!” The soldier stayed where he was. “Are you deaf? I said move!” The Legion Soldier grumbled and walked back to his post. “Stupid Legion, think they’re better than everyone else,” she grumbled, mostly to herself.

“and you wonder why you’re always getting into trouble,” Ancus chide.

“You try livin’ my life.”

“Hate to say it, but I am livin’ your life!”

“Oh, so you get hit on by random men? Have had your ass smacked so many times, it hurts to sit down? Well, I’m terribly sorry for accusing you of living the life of luxury.”

Puny Ancus opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. It was a pensive few moments before Raqel stood up. “Wake me up when Armand gets here.” She sulked away from the fire to her bedroll. “Night,” she said to him before slipping under the covers.

 

Armand Christophe slid around the corner of the Garden of Dareloth, torch at hand. The burning light woke Raqel from her sleep slumber. Puny Ancus was sound asleep, just as she was a few moments ago. Armand stopped just by the marble brick wall behind the abandoned house that was home to a few lucky beggars. His dark skin shined intensly in the bright fire. Raqel approached him, hoping to get her ration of food for the next day.

“I hear you almost got into trouble again today,” he started, glaring at her.

“Word travels fast.”

“You forget, I live on the Waterfront too,” he stated. “You better keep that temper of yours under control, lest I have to start putting you on a shorter leash.”

“You try livin’ a beggars life.”

“I did, or have you forgotten. I was a beggar much like you before the Thieves Guild hired me,” he explained, keeping his voice calm. “Why don’t you try the Fighters Guild to get rid of some of that pent up anger. I hear they’re looking for some new recruits. Not a bad way to earn some Septims.”

“Are you kidding me!” she laughed. “There’s no way they’d hire someone with my track record. Besides, I hear they lost a lot of people in a raid recently. Way too risky.”

“Then how about the Arena? It’s a fight to the death, but it’s one on one and you get a decent amount of gold for every fight.”

“Hmm…” she said, thinking. “Maybe, I’d rather not die, but I’ll check it out.”

“Otherwise, just get out of town once and a while, go fight some wild creatures or something. Anything to keep you out of trouble. Just think, what would you do if Hieronymus Lex caught you?”

“I’d beat the $!&@# out of him and run,” she chuckled, picturing Lex’s bloodied up face.

“And be a wanted criminal all over Cyrodill?”

“Right… forgot about that little detail.” She thought about joining the Thieves Guild a little more, when something returned to her. “Can I have my ration of food now? Since the formalities are over.”

“I guess so.” Armant reached into his pack, producing a small back of food for Raqel. “Now wake Ancus so he can get his too.”

Raqel greedily snatched the bag of food. She returned to her bedroll to wake Puny Ancus. “Hey, dip-$!&@#, Armand is here,” she said, shaking him violently.

“Wh-what?” he questioned, waving his arms as he was awakened.

“Armand is here. Get your stuff.”

“Oh! Right!” Ancus lazily stood up and shuffled on his way over to Armand to retrieve his ration of food. He returned shortly, landing on the ground with a thud. “Things with the Thieves Guild are goin slow. They haven’t found, or had people find them, worth hiring. Armand said not to expect any people looking for information for a while.”

“Just great.” Raqel thought back to what had happened only a few hours before. Who was that Dark Brotherhood Sister, and what did she want with the Marie Elena? Captain Tussaud had verbally abused her, and she wished for him and his crew to all die. Had the Night Mother herd her plea, even if it wasn’t prayed directly too her?

She decided she would have to check out what happened tomorrow. And to see if there was anything worth taking. “What are you thinking about?” Puny Ancus asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“Nothing, now,” she snapped. “Why can’t you just leave me be sometimes.”

“What to you mean?” he asked, stuffing the small amount of food he had into his bag.

“Every time I’m minding my own business, or getting some cash from an unlikely person, you always interrupt me!”

“Like when?”

“A few hours ago, with the Dark Brotherhood. I just wanted some Septims for some information. But no, you had to but in and almost ruin my chances!”

“That was one time, and she could have easily killed us!”

“But she didn’t! That’s my point! And just two seconds ago, I was just thinking and you had to interrupt me, making me loose my train of thought!” she barked at him.

“Will you two shut up! Gods damnit! You bicker like you’re related!” Armand shouted from his post.

“Ok, so it was twice. What are you going to do? Send me to my bedroll for being a bad boy?”

“It wasn’t just twice! Two days ago, a cat burglar was asking me for some information. But you didn’t know who he was, and by the Gods you know every member of the Guild. Every member my ass! You cost me fifty Septims that day. Fifty Septims! We barely get that in a week combined!”

“Give it up!” Armang cried, charging out of the garden. “You!” he shouted, pointing at Raqel. “Over there!” he pointed his arm in the direction of the corner behind a nearby wooden shack, one of many that littered the area.

“But-”

“Go!” his face was red with anger, looking even darker as fire light danced across his features.

Raqel grabbed her bedroll and bag of food, dragging them around the fire to her new spot. “Either you two get along, or one of you will have to go elsewhere.” He looked back over at Raqel. “Mind what I said earlier. You could get yourself and the guild into a lot of trouble if you don’t.”

She didn’t know what he was talking about, until she recalled their conversation from before. She sighed heavily, then nodded. She’s rather join the Thieves Guild than the Fighters Guild, or the Arena. At least there she wouldn’t have to put her life on the line for ever contract. Satisfied, Armand returned to his nearby spot. She’ll make a name for herself, he thought. Of that I’m sure.

Raqel, still thinking about the Dunmer she had seen earlier, stood up. She glanced past the fire to where Ancus’ bedroll was. He was asleep. Good. She snuck through the small alleyway between the two shacks by her bedroll. She turned right, to where she was the dark elf run past. Following the trail, through the archway, se saw bodies, and the Marie Elena.

Raqel scanned for guards. Seeing none, she continued. She grabbed the collar of the dead Dunmer Pirate’s shirt, and dragged her behind a group of rocks by the water. She stripped the body of anything with value, including the cutlass, and her clothes. Raqel belted the cutlass, and threw the clothes over her shoulder. She returned to the stone walkway of the Waterfront. Carefully, she walked down a set of stairs and across the wood planks leading toward the top deck of the Marie Elena. There were plenty of crates and barrels around, so when one of the guards came by, she hid between two crates on top of each other and a nearby barrel. The guard walked by without even noticing her.

She pulled herself out from her hiding place, and continued onto the ship. The door to the captain’s Cabin was open, so Raqel walked right in. She froze with the sight that greeted her. In the dining half of the cabin, lay Captain Tussaud. His mutilated body lay sprawled across the table, utensils, plates, food, and wine bottles scattered the floor. Inhaling deeply, mostly to calm herself down, she continued forward. Also in the dining area, lay two other pirates, one of which was an Argonian. Their bodies were entangled in the corner to her right. Exilerated, she looted the corpses of the pirates. The Captain’s corpse had a key, some gold, and a book.

“The Lusty Argonian Maid,” she said, reading the title out loud to herself. Raqel paged through the book, noticing the Lord was constantly hitting on the Argoinian maid, Lifts-Her-Tail. “I wonder where he got the idea,” she chuckled to herself. She carried the book back to the Captain’s Quarters, when she noticed a large chest. She glanced at the key, then back at the chest. A large grin spread across her face. Hastily, she threw the book down, and ran for the chest. Se fumbled with the key as adrenaline pulsed through her veins. Finally, she managed to slip the key into the lock. There was a slight click as the lid to the container popped open. Wide-eyed, Raqel lifted the lid to look in. Her face immediately brightened as she saw its contents: An Emerald, two flawless pearls, and around 100 Septims!

Just barely holding back a scream of excitement, Raqel slowly closed the chest and locked it again. She pocketed the key, and was just about to leave when she realized she forgot something. The bodies. She could wait for the Legion to take care of them, but they’d probably clear out all the cargo as well, and get rid of the ship. Raqel, however, had a better idea. She returned to the dining area, grabbed Tussaud’s collar, and dragged him off the table. The door in the back of the cabin was locked, but luckily the key to the chest was also to the door.

Raqel threw all three bodies over board, but not before stripping them of all their valuables, including clothes. No one will miss them, she thought. Raqel went back to the cabin, grabbed an apple clean of blood, and walked out to the deck. She returned to the small fire pit by her bedroll. All that was left of the fire was some smoldering ashes, glowing red in the night. Ancus snored peacefully while Armand Christophe had already left for the night. “It must be at least,” she yawned, “one in the morning.” Sleepily, she made her way to her bedroll. She’d wait until tomorrow to explore the ship more, so if the Legion found her, they wouldn’t think she was the murderer. She finished the apple she had looted from the Marie Elena before slipping into a deep slumber.

 

When Raqel woke up, it was almost eleven o’clock. She stood up, grabbing her things. She was going to move them into the Marie Elena while nobody would notice her, a simple beggar, moving through the busy Waterfront streets. Casually, Raqel made her way to the Marie Elena, bedroll under her arm. She crouched behind a large pile of rocks near the bow of the boat. Carefully, she threw her bedroll onto a unique balcony protruding from the ship. She glanced up over the rocks to the pathway above. No one seemed to have noticed the flying bedroll. So, she too, jumped to the balcony. She just barely made it, she had to stretch out her arms, and even then she could only just grab the base of it. Quickly, she hoisted herself up onto the balcony, panting with effort. She glanced back at the water noticing not only that the pirate’s bodies were gone, but also there was food in the water. Raqel grabbed at the bag of food she attatched to her waist, only to find the bottom of it completely ripped open. “By the Nine!” she scolded herself. Hopefully there would be more food in the captains cabin.

Quietly she opened the door. It was just as she had left it the night before. The pool of blood in the corner where the two pirates had been had soaked into the wood of the floor. Food, wine, and other items still scattered the floor of the cabin. In a cabinet in front of her and to the right was more food and more wine. Relieved that all the cargo was still inside, she proceeded forward to the residential half of the cabin. The book she had taken off the corpse of Captain Tussaud was where she had left it. To her left was a book shelf with about a dozen more books on it. She figured they were all similar to “The Lusty Argonian maid,” but she glanced at them anyway. She found a book called “Manual of Arms,” and decided to look through it. She learned many unique moves with a blade that she could use just by glancing at the pages.

After only an hour of paging through the book, Raqel became sick of it. She replaced the book back onto the shelf she got it from and continued to search the ship. Through a small archway, leading to the door she had entered in the day before, was a hatch leading to the lower levels of the Marie Elena. It was open, so Raqel assumed that the Dunmer from the night before had gone down there. Or the two other pirates she had found came up from down there. Either way, she was going down. Carefully, she grabbed hold of the ladder, lowering herself to the wood floors below. Glancing around, she took note of two more dead pirates on the ground in front of her. She looted their corpses as well, not finding much. She would have to wait until night fall to dump the bodies without arousing suspicion. Continuing forward, she realized this deck was the living quarters for the crew. Making her way around many corners and through many doors, Raqel found the hatch leading down to another deck.

On the next deck she found many barrels and sacks of food and drinks. With limited maneuverability, she explored the final deck of the ship. Not finding much more than storage, Raqel went back up the ladder. Remembering the bodies of the two other pirates, she decided to bring them up to the captains quarters now instead of later. She dragged the two bodies down to the base of the ladder. Still trying to figure out a way to hoist the bodies up the ladder, she went with the original idea she had. Hoping the pirates had bled out all that they could, Raqel picked up one of the dead men, resting him across her shoulder. It was strenuous work, but she finally managed to bring one of the bodies up a deck. Panting, she dropped the body on the floor as she made her way to the bed. She sat down, dead tired from the weight of the man she carried. I’ll have to get more exercise if I ever want to last in the Arena , she told herself. Getting up, she walked back to the open hatch and looked down at the body of the last pirate. “One more,” she told herself.

She grabbed a bottle of wine and took a quick swig of it before venturing back down the hatch. The Redguard was much easier to haul up the ladder than the fat old buffoon she had taken up before. Satisfied with what she had done, Raqel decided to be finished with the ship for the day. She was almost to the door when she realized Puny Ancus would wonder where her bedroll was, and where she disappeared to. “$!&@#!” she scolded herself again. Returning to the chest, she unlocked it, grabbed the few sheets that were her bed, then locked the chest again. Cautiously, she slid out the door to the deck. She looked around for anyone before continuing up the stairs. Relieved that no one had seen her on the ship, she walked back toward the small area where she and Ancus resided. She was looking for potential victims to beg money from when she ran into someone. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized , picking up the bedroll she had dropped. She nearly dropped it again when she saw who it was she wan into. “Hie… Hieronymus Lex…” she stuttered.

He had been patrolling around the raggedy shacks when she ran into him. “Raqel,” he started. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Now, may I ask, why are you carrying a bedroll around?”

By the Nine! she shouted in her head. “I… uh, I’m… um….”

Lex didn’t let her finish before asking another question. “And why did I see you on the Marie Elena? Right after it’s captain and crew were murdered.” The large claymore on his back looked very intimidating to Raqel now.

“I, um…. $!&@#!” Raqel about faced, bolting through the archway toward the Marie Elena. Nearly slipping, she took a sharp right toward the Bloated Float.

“Raqel! Stop!” Lex shouted behind her. “In the name of the Legion stop!” Raqel continued to run, pushing people out of her way as she went. Behind her, Lex and two other Legion Soldiers chased her. Ahead of her, Raqel saw Puny Ancus looking at her, sorrow in his eyes. He just turned and walked away. Not minding Ancus, She took a sharp left turn down a set of stairs. She lost her footing as she ran down. Her head met the hard stone with a loud smack! In her blurred vision, Raqel saw Hieronymus Lex over her before everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

The dried blood on the side of her face cracked as Raqel shook her head. Her nose started to itch terribly, but when she went to scratch it, Raqel found that her arms were bound. She opened one eye at a time, only to see the barren inside of a jail cell. She had seen them many times before, however, this time was different. She’d never had her wrists bound together, that couldn’t be good for her. Still free to move, she walked up to her cell door. “Oh look, an Imperial in the Imperial Prison,” a raspy voice filled the corridor. “I guess they don’t play favorites, huh. Your own kinsmen think you’re a piece of human trash. How sad. I bet the guards give you special treatment before the end. That’s right. You’re going to die in her Imperial, your going to die!” It was right about now that Raqel realized the white haired Dunmer male kiddy corner to her cell wasn’t talking to her. “Imperial scum like you give the Empire a bad name, you see. You’re an embarrassment. Best if you just disappear. Hey, you hear that, the guards are coming, for you!” He laughed so harshly that Raqel swore her bones themselves shook. 

“That’s a nice speech, do you have one for everyone who ends up in this cell?” It was a male Imperials voice, around 18 if Raqel guessed right. “You’ve been here, what? Eleven years now? Unlike you, I’m here by mistake. The guards are probably coming to get me out of here.” Raqel couldn’t see the man in the cell next to her, but she could watch the Dunmer’s face contort with anger and disgust. As he backed away, steel boots striking stone, and an Imperial woman’s voice echoed down the hallway. 

“We don’t know for sure. The messenger only said they were attacked.” 

Another, older voice followed. “No, they’re dead. I know it.” 

“My job right now it so get you to safety,” she spoke again. “What’s this prisoner doing in here? This cell is supposed to be off limits.” Raqel strained her eyes to see through the dim light. She could barely make out four figures. Three were clad in a strange armor Raqel had never seen before. The fourth wore expensive robes and a large amulet around his neck. 

“The usual mix-up at the watch,” a Redguard in the strange armor spoke. “I-” 

“Nevermind, get that gate open. Stand back prisoner. We won’t hesitate to kill you if you get in our way.” They definitely aren’t Legion ,Raqel thought to herself. 

“You! Prisoner! Stand aside. Over by the window.” She heard the gate open, and watched as the figures moved out of her line of sight. Raqel heard more voices, but the words were muffled by the thick stone walls. Shortly, a loud rumbling sound emitted from the adjacent cell, then, nothing. The Dunmer walked back up to his cell gate, a look of astonishment on his face. Only then did he finally notice Raqel. 

“Oh look, an Imperial-” 

“Can it, I heard your cheesy speech already.” 

He snorted in disgust at her and walked from his gate. “At least someone down here is getting what’s coming to them.” 

“I said can it!” 

“Raqel!” This time it wasn’t the Dunmer speaking. It was Hieronymus Lex. “I didn’t put you down year so you could fight with Dreth.” He had two other Legion with him. As he neared her cell, Raqel backed away, towards the chains hanging from the wall. Lex was handed a key and he unlocked the cell door. “Now, Raqel, I need you to stay calm.” The two Legion advanced, she backed away. She noticed Lex didn’t have his claymore with him, or even his armor on, but the two Legion did have their long swords. Each was sharp enough to cleave its way through her flesh. Her back hit the wall, she had no where left to run. The Legion grabbed Raqel’s wrists, pulling her away from the wall. “Don’t fight and you won’t get hurt,” Lex said as she was chained up. She snarled in hatred as the last key turned. “Your dismissed,” he waved them off. The guards turned and left. Lex started to stroll around the cell. “Now Raqel, I know the beggars are the eyes and ears of the Thieves Guild.” He walked behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I know Armand Christophe is the Doyen here in the Imperial City.” The space between their bodies grew smaller. “So tell me,” he breathed down her neck. “Where is he. Where is the Grey Fox?” 

“You fascist pig!” she shouted, yanking down on the chains. Lex pulled away as the guards came running. “You men are all the same!” 

“Alright, have it your way.” Lex walked out of the cell, shutting the door behind him, leaving Raqel chained up. 

“Do you want us to unlock her?” one of the guards asked. 

“No, leave her. I’ll come and get her later.” From inside the cell, Raqel pulled savagely at the chains holding her back. 

“I’ll rip that tongue right out of your throat!” she yelled after him. For hours she pulled at the chains, trying to yank them from the wall. 

 

For three days Raqel stayed chained to the wall. For three days Lex didn’t show. Her mouth was a dry river bed, waiting for the summer rain. Her stomach an empty gorge waiting to be filled. Almost as if on a timer her stomach would roar loudly every half hour or so. Sleep was a strenuous but necessary task. Yet, it rarely came to her. It wasn’t as if the guards didn’t bring her food, they did. They, however, wouldn’t unchain her to let her eat and drink. They just left it on the small table for her to stare at, until they came the next day. They would just take the old food, and replace it with a new tray and refill the water pitcher. 

“What happened to you?” Valen Dreth asked from his cell, not able to see the suffering Raqel. “Three days ago you were all full of energy. I haven’t heard a word from you since.” 

“I thought I was just scum? Something to keep off the streets. Now you almost sound sympathetic,” she croaked almost painfully, staring blankly at the wall, her icy blue eyes now dull and lifeless. 

“I admire anyone who has the guts to say what you did. And to Hieronymus Lex of all people. Of course, you probably wouldn’t have said that if he had his armor on, and his claymore with him.” 

“You don’t know what I would have said,” she barked back. 

“Enough chit-chat, you’re not down here for social hour.” It was Lex again. Raqel couldn’t see him, but she knew he was coming for her. 

“Lex! What are you doing!” Dreth shouted from his cell. “She doesn’t deserve it!” Raqel still couldn’t see him, so she had no idea what was going on. 

“She deserves everything.” Again, he had his two guards with him. One of the guards unlocked the gate for him. Instead of being in casual clothes like he had been before, Lex was fully suited up in his Legion clad armor. In his hands was a large whip. He nodded slightly to the guards, who went to Raqel. Instead of unchaining her, they put more locks on her. An additional three clamps were added to the original two they put her in. No, instead of just clamps on her wrists, she had them on her ankles and her neck. Again, Lex walked behind her. Only this time he had different intentions. “Raqel, where is the Grey Fox?” 

“I don’t know.” He cracked the whip on the ground, trying to intimidate her. 

“Where is he. Or better yet, who is he?” 

“I told you, I don’t know.” The whip came down upon her with a crack. It cut through cloth, skin, and flesh. Raqel cried out in pain as blood trickled from the wound. 

“Where is he,” Lex demanded again. 

“I already told you,” she said through a clenched jaw. “I don’t know.” 

“Yes,” he said, cracking the whip across her back. “You,” he did it again. “Do!” he whipped her again. 

“I have no idea who or where he is,” she choked. “I’ve never seen or met him.” Lex turned his back to her, deep in thought. He then turned right back around, bringing the whip to her flesh again. 

“Tell me!” 

“No!” 

He cracked the whip again and again. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping Raqel going. Her loyalty to Armand Christophe, an old friend, was the only think keeping her from cracking. Her agony filled screams bounced off the stone walls, drowning out every sound but the cracking of the whip. 

“I think she’s had enough Lex.” 

“No!” he screamed, fury burning in his eyes. “She’s going to tell me!” 

“He he…” she chuckled during the short break. 

“What?” he turned back to the suffering woman.  
“He he he…” 

“What’s so funny?” 

“He he ha ha, you don’t get it do you?” Lex glared at her bloodied back. “You just don’t get it.” She turned her head so her eyes could meet with his, their icy blue sheen returned. “I won’t tell you anything!” Enraged, Lex snapped the whip against her back, never letting up on the painful torture. Not once in this antagonizing whipping did Raqel scream again. The pain had renewed her faith in the guild, somehow. She savored it for what it was, what it could be. 

One of the guards had enough with Lex’s rampage, and grabbed the arm wielding the whip. “She’s had enough! Don’t make me bring Phillida or one of your other superior officers down here. I only let you do this because I thought she would break. I was wrong and I regret it.” Lex yanked his arm from his grasp, looking down angrily. For one last time he cracked the whip across Raqel’s back. “Lex!” Hieronymus then threw down the whip, angrier than when he had first come in. 

It was during this torture that Raqel realized what pain was for her. It relieved great amounts of stress from her body, lifting her soul. But she, however, could never bring herself to inflict it upon herself. The Fighters Guild was just a bunch of pansies in fancy armor with weapons. The Arena, however, tested true strength. 

“Raqel?” it was Dreth again. “Raqel?” 

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” she murmured back. 

“Thank the Gods, your actually alive. I’m surprised you’re even conscious after a beating like that. I thought you lost it once I didn’t hear you screaming anymore.” 

“Not quite. I’m stronger willed than even the toughest man.” 

“I can see that now. But you do know, after that performance, I doubt you’ll be getting out of here anytime soon.” 

“That’s alright. It’s not like I have anything to go back to. Hell, I got more food daily here then I did weekly out there.” 

“The sad truth.” 

“That it is, that it is.” 

Raqel’s torn back throbbed with pain, but she never even winced. Valen Dreth seemed to have warmed up to her, although he’d probably never seen her face before. She wasn’t sure if she’d rather have the old Dreth back or not. Raqel hung limp in her shackles, unable to stand up straight. The metal chafed away her skin, causing her wrists to bleed. 

It was hours before they heard the door open to that area of the prison, and metal boots against the stone. Raqel assumed it was Lex again, back to torture her more. She was wrong, however. It was the guard who had shown her pity during Lex’s rampage. A ring of keys bounced off his Legion armor. Raqel recognized this Redgaurd as the jail keeper. She had seen him many times before, but never with so much shame showing in his features. When she noticed a shirt draped across his arms, she realized there wasn’t much left of the one she had one. “I’m… sorry,” he said, opening the cell door. “I didn’t know how brutal he would be. We just wanted-” 

“Don’t be sorry,” she groaned. “You wanted to know about the Grey Fox, but I didn’t break.” He set the shirt down by the tray of food leftover from the day before. 

“Let me get you down.” He walked over to her, stepping over the whip Lex dropped. He unshackled Raqel clamp by clamp. First her neck, then her wrists, and finally her ankles. Raqel nearly fell over when she was able to support herself. The guard caught her as she came down. He eased her slowly to the floor, careful not to touch her wounds. The Redguard walked over to the food and shirt, and brought them back over to her. “You shouldn’t move too much, your very weak. Eat, but don’t eat too much, you could get sick. I brought you a shirt. You look like you could use it. Sorry to say, wool was all we had, so it’ll have to do for now.” 

“Thanks… I guess.” 

“I don’t know how long Lex is planning to keep you here, so make yourself comfortable.” The jail keeper turned and left, locking the cell behind him. 

Slowly Raqel began to eat her food. The taste was horrendous, but it was the first food she’d eaten in days. The water was warm, but it quenched her dieing thirst. Her back started to ache terribly, but she didn’t pay too much mind to it. It reminded her of how she would get revenge on Lex for doing this to her. How it would be done, she didn’t know. When it would be done, she didn’t know. She only knew that she would one day. Hieronymus Lex was a brute, nothing more, but still much less. He was one of the many who thought of themselves as higher than everyone, or so it seemed to Raqel. When the food was gone, and the water empty, she lightly rested her back against the wall. “Raqel?” It was Dreth. Again. 

“What do you want now?” 

“Just making sure you’re alive.” 

“Why do you even care?” 

“Well, your really the only person I’ve gotte4n to know down here. Besides the guards, of course... It’s quite lonely down here, you know.” 

“I wouldn’t have guessed.” Raqel assumed that Dreth heard the sarcasm in her voice because he said no more. 

Her limbs ached terribly, after standing up for three days, so Raqel welcomed the rest. But, she still wanted to get up and move around. Sitting there was just too boring for her. Something in the corner of her eye caught Raqel’s attention. It was the shirt the Jail keeper brought for her. There wasn’t much left of her shirt that she currently had on, so she decided to change it. The wool was coarse and itchy, and hurt as she slipped it on. But it felt good to have a clean shirt one, even thought it hurt her wounds. As soon as she got out, Raqel would wear one of the shirts she got from the dead pirates. At least, if the Marie Elena was still there when she got out. 

Raqel realized how tired she really was after not being able to sleep well for three days. Unable to use her legs well due to her great amount of fatigue, she crawled over to the bed built into the wall. It was hard to get onto, and the straw made the cloth covers itchy, but none of that really mattered anymore. A bed was a bed. She laid on her stomach, using her arms as a pillow, and fell asleep. 

 

For the next few weeks Raqel built her strength back up. She always ate all her food sparsely thought the day, drinking water only when she needed it. The gashes on her back slowly healed into thin ropy scars, covering most of her back. Every week or so, the Jail keeper would bring her a new shirt, out of pity from Lex’s brutal attack. He offered to bring her new pants as well, but Raqel always denied them, saying she liked the ones she had on. The taste of the food never got any better, but the water was colder than the first time she had it. She and Dreth would talk every once and a while about their lives before prison, how they got in, and what they would do when they got out. Dreth always said he had a big plan to become the riches man in Cyrodiil. Raqel would just laugh saying life is never easy for anyone and that it would take a lot more than a cheesy plan to get rich. She would also add that to get so much money that easily, he’d probably end up back in prison. 

It was on her fifth week in prison, the longest that she had ever been in there that everything changed for the worse. Raqel was sleeping soundly when she heard Dreth yelling at a guard, he was telling him that he would be rich and that he’d be sorry for keeping him in prison for so long. The guard didn’t really care too much, so he just walked off. Raqel didn’t care too much about this conversation, but it was the next one that startled her. 

She heard the creaking of one of the cell gates. Raqel wondered if Valen Dreth had somehow picked the lock to his cell. When she heard his voice again, she knew otherwise. 

“Hey, I know you! You’re the one that was wrongly accused of murder, and they let you go. But you came back?” he said to the mysterious person. 

Who ever he was talking to said something that Raqel couldn’t hear. 

“The Night Mother? No!” he screamed. “No! Guards! Guards! Come quick! There’s a mur-” His voice was cut off by a quiet thunk followed by a soft thud. 

“Dreth?” she called. “Dreth are you okay?” The only answer was soft footsteps on the cold stone. Raqel walked to her gate, hoping to be able to see what had happened. “Dreth?” As soon as she reached her gate, someone reached through the bars from around the corner and grabbed her throat. Raqel immediately recognized the ice cold fireballs staring her in the eye. Her face was shrouded in darkness by a black hood, but she still knew who the assailant was. It was the Dunmer woman who had asked her about the Marie Elena. 

“I know you,” the elf said, pulling back her hood, but never letting go of Raqel’s throat. “You’re that beggar who jacked 15 Septims from me when I asked about that ship.” She said it with a raising anger, worrying Raqel. 

“Yeah, that would be me.” 

“How’d you end up in here?” 

“Long story…” 

“You didn’t tell them about me, did you?” she asked devilishly, tightening her grip. 

“No, no, I didn’t do anything like that. I was brought here to be interrogated about the Grey Fox.” 

“You won’t tell anyone about me being here, will you?” she said, tightening her grip more, almost completely cutting off her oxygen. 

“No,” she croaked. “I won’t.” 

“Good.” The Dunmer finally let go of her throat. Her ashen skin was hidden as she walked away. Raqel rubbed her throat, thankful to be able to breath. Her hear was split on what to think about Dreth’s fate. She didn’t really care about him or his life, but he was one of the few who were truly nice to her. Raqel decided that she shouldn’t care too much. If she were ever to make it in the Arena, she’d have to get used to seeing death. Raqel was just waiting for one of the guards to come down and blame her for Dreth’s death, but she had a better idea. 

 

It was during the daily food run that someone finally came down and noticed Dreth’s body. “Murder!” he shouted, dropping the food trays and running back the way he came. Several hours that day were spent investigating the murder. A Black Horse Courier reporter was asking questions left and right, but no one stopped to ask Raqel about it. Finally, one of the Legion investigators came to her cell. “You, prisoner! Come here, we need to ask you some questions.” She got up from where she was sitting and walked to the gate. 

“Go right ahead.” The Khajiit reporter was hastily writing everything down that they said. 

“Did you see what happened.” 

“I didn’t see Dreth get murdered. I only saw someone standing at his cell gate.” 

“Can you describe this person?” 

“I couldn’t get a good look at him-” 

“It was a he? Are you sure?” 

“Yes, now let me finish. I couldn’t see him clearly because of the lighting and the cell position. From what I could see, though, he appeared to be an Imperial with a long brownish-blonde ponytail-like hairstyle. It almost looked like he was wearing white and gold Legion armor, but I could be mistaken.” 

“That could explain how he was able to get in without opposition. What else did you see? A weapon perhaps.” 

“I’m pretty sure he had a bow, of silver make I believe. I’m not exactly sure, but I think he had a large claymore strapped to his back as well.” 

A look of shock spread across his face. “Th-that will be all,” he stammered, walking away. Raqel propped up against the wall, satisfied with her work. Lex was going to pay dearly for what he did to her. She was just about to go back to where she was sitting when someone called her name. Raqel turned to see the jail keeper unlocking her gate. 

“What are you doing?” 

“You’re set free.” 

“I am? Why? I thought Lex would keep me here as long as he could.” 

“Well, someone paid your bail, so you’re free to go.” 

“Who?” 

“I’m not sure. Some lady in dark robes. I don’t know who she is and I don’t trust her. But rules are rules.” Raqel wondered who she could be, but didn’t fight it. She was free. The Redguard lead her past all the Legion. She saw Dreth’s body, an arrow in his mouth, piercing upward through his skull. She turned her head away, sad that he was gone, but not so because she forced herself not to be. 

When she saw the woman who paid her bail, she knew who it was. It was the Dunmer again. “Let’s go,” she ordered. She was dressed in all black robes, but you could still the boots and gauntlets of her thin armor. The jail keeper handed her back her possessions and sent her on her way. Raqel walked side-by-side with the Dunmer as they walked away from the prison. As soon as they were outside on the bridge toward the center of town, the Dunmer turned off the road and started to walk off into the wilderness. 

“Wait!” The Dunmer stopped short. “Why did you pay my bail?” 

“Returning a favor.” 

“Who are you?” 

“No one of consequence.” She started to walk off, but stopped again. “My name is Devany. As long as you don’t become a bandit of a sort, or make enemies that pray to the Night Mother, we should get along fine.” She started walking again so Raqel made her way back to the Imperial Waterfront.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hieronymus Lex number one suspect in prison murder case!” shouted the Black Horse Courier vender of the Imperial Waterfront as Raqel walked past. All around her people were muttering about the murder. It had only been twenty-four hours since Raqel spilled the beans about Lex. The information might have been false, but she got the utterly sweet revenge she had been hoping for. If Lex was charged for Dreth’s murder, he’d go away for years and the Grey Fox wouldn’t have to worry about him. Raqel would be a hero. She rested her hand on the cutlass she got from the dead pirate as she walked toward the Marie Elena. She was surprised that it was still there, but very thankful. No one paid much mind to her as she made her way through the crowd. Nothing seemed to have changed while she was away. Whether that was good or bad, she didn’t know. 

The Marie Elena floated gracefully in the bay. Not having set sale for over a month, mackerels of all sorts gathered on her hull. The outside of the ship was exactly as she left it, Raqel only hoped it was the same on the inside. Without being noticed, she slipped onto the ship deck and inside the captain’s quarters. What she saw astonished her. Everything was clean and tidy. The book she had dropped was nicely set up on the bookshelf. All the silver was polished and returned to its place. Even the dining are had been cleaned up and the table set. The chest was her biggest worry. All the cutlasses she had looted were neatly stacked in the corner behind the bed. After noting all the weapons were still there, she examined the chest. It wasn’t broken in anyway, but the lock showed tampering. Quickly, she grabbed the key and shoved it in the lock. She pulled the lid open and sighed with relief. It didn’t appear that anyone had gotten into the chest. 

Raqel was curious as to who had cleaned up the ship. Carefully she looked around for clues. On the desk near the chest there were two scrolls. She unrolled the first one. It appeared to be some sort of instructions but Raqel didn’t understand any of it. She rolled it back up, putting it where she had found it. The next scroll made more sense. It was a will for Captain Tussaud. She read through it carefully, noting that everything was left to his niece. Who that was, she didn’t know. Everything came together when the niece’s name was specified; Devany. Why would his own niece kill him? Was it just a Dark Brotherhood contract, or did she really want to kill him? Raqel wondered if the will was even real or not. She would have to find someway to keep the chest and everything inside without someone accusing her of stealing it. Devany would have to come back sometime, so Raqel started plotting. She took a piece of parchment and started writing. 

 

Deer Devany, 

 

If yur the Devany Im thinking ov, then yu’ll no who I am. Yu may not no my name, but its Raqel, that beggar that jaked 15 coins from yu, and the won yu got out of prison. I figurd we cud make a deel. The nite yu came her and… tok car of Tussaud and his crew, I came to se wat hapend. After finding the kee to the chest in the captins cuarters, I desided to put my things and septims in the chest with everything else that was alredy in ther. So her is my suggestion. I’l tak car of the Mare Elena and kep the legon of yur bak as best I kan aslong as I kan use the cest to kep my things in, and use the ship for anything I ned aslong as it dosen’t leve the waterfront. I’l be out and around for the next wek or so, so just leve Puny Ancus the message. 

I’l be wating for an anser, 

Raqel 

 

She dropped the quill back into the inkwell and left the parchment on the desk. She couldn’t write very well so it was a little sloppy and many words were misspelled. Raqel just hoped that Devany would who up soon so they could settle this. That, and if it was the wrong Devany they wouldn’t be able to find her because she’d be in a lot of trouble. 

The thought of joining the Arena echoed in the back of her mind. She would do it, she just didn’t think she was ready. Raqel took what Armand said to heart. She would go out around the Imperial Isle on the other side of Lake Rumare and practice her fighting skills. She went back to the chest, putting everything she wouldn’t need in the chest. All she had on her person now as a couple septims, the cutlass, some food, and the clothes on her back. If she could survive a week without any human assistance, unless she stole something, she was ready. 

Raqel left the ship, careful not to be seen, and looked for Puny Ancus. She might as well tell him that she was out of prison, didn’t give up the guild, and she was going on a “trip.” She found him on his usual routine down the waterfront. He was out infront of the Bloated Float, skillfully getting coins from an unlucky Breton. Ancus turned away and flipped the coin as his victim walked off. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Raqel approaching. “They finally let you go?” 

“Yeah, but it was only after I got some sweet revenge.” 

“You didn’t…” 

“I did.” 

“Raqel, that’s just low! You mur—” 

“I didn’t kill the fool! I was, however, an eye witness to it. I gave the a description of the person who committed the murder, and they put the pieces together, making Lex a suspect.” 

“You mean he really did it?” 

“No, someone who I owed a favor to did it. She’s long gone by now. Could be back in Morrowind for all I know. But enough of that, I’ll be gone for at least a week, honing my skills for the Arena.” 

“You’re what?” 

“Ugh, I’m going out into the woods and, in a way, hunting for a week so I’ll be ready for the Arena.” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“I don’t want to die in my first fight.” 

“Not that. Why are you joining the Arena?” 

“Armand suggested that I do somethin’ to get rid of all this pent up anger, and the Arena sounded like a good place to start.” 

“Well, I wish you luck, and try not to die.” 

“I won’t. You’ll see me hit it big in there, I promise.” Raqel turned her back to him and started off toward the doors going into the Imperial City. She figured going through the doors and into the city was the easy way to get to the bridge going across Lake Rumare, so she went to the rocks on either side. Making sure her cutlass was secure Raqel found handholds and started climbing. It was harder than she thought it would be, but Raqel none the less continued climbing. When she finally reached the top of the pile of very large rocks, her arms felt dead, but she knew she had to continue. 

She walked for what felt like hours until she came to the cobblestone walkway that went across the bridge. Raqel’s legs felt like they were about to fall off, and her arms hung limply at her sides. Walking on flat ground would be easier that what she just had to do, or atleast that’s what she kept telling herself. She pressed forward, not letting herself give up until she finally reached the settlement of Weye. A Redguard fisherman in his waders with an odd limp walked aimlessly around the area. He stopped as Raqel walked by. “You know, stranger, there comes a time in every man’s life when he has to admit that he’s lost the fight. Well, I’ve fought and I’ve lost. Who did I loose to? Who is my great enemy? Well, don’t laugh… it’s a bunch of damn fish.” 

Raqel really wanted to just laugh in his face, but she wondered if there was a reward if she helped him. “How can I help?” she asked calmly. 

“Go on an lau… Wait. Help? Oh. Well, then… I’m a fisherman. Or at least, I was. Until one of those slaughterfish damn near took my leg off. I was collecting their scales, see. I had a contract with a young alchemist. You wouldn’t believe what he wa paying for those scales! Then last month one of the bastards got a hold of my leg. Took me right out of the business, but this alchemist needs the scales right away.” 

“What do you need me to do?” 

“The alchemist was paying so much for the scales that I’m close to having enough saved so that I can retire. But no I can’t get out there to the lake— not with this leg. I only need twelve more scales! Can you believe it? I was so close! I picked up a few things in my travels. If you head out and bring me back the twelve scales that I need, I can make it worth your time. Help an old fisherman out, won’t you?” 

“I’ll be back when I have them.” She was too tired to start right away, but she would still finish before the sun set. Raqel made her way to an abandoned dock. That would be a good place to start if any. She sat at the end of the dock and opened her bag of food. She too ka bite of an apple and ate a slice of bread before getting ready to go fore a swim. Right off the end of the dock Raqel could already see a slaughterfish. It flexed its several fins as it waited for its next meal to causally swim by. Raqel would make sure that she was the last thing it would see. She set her food back and her backpack on the dock, she wouldn’t ruin her things or her food for the sake of a simple reward. She ran, diving off the end of the dock and grabbing onto the slimy yellow body of the slaughterfish. The force studded it at first, but it soon realized what was going on. It tried to free its self from her grasp, but she held on tight. It finally slipped from raqel’s fingers, but she had a good hold on one of its fins. The speed at which it swam pulled the fin from its body, tearing it off. The slaughterfish thrashed about in the water as Raqel swam for a breath. As she reached the surface, the slaughterfish grabbed onto her ankle, pulling her down. The fresh blood would no doubt attract more fish, so Raqel needed to end this quickly. She grabbed the cutlass from her belt, cutting down into the slaughterfish. Hastily and painfully she retrieved the scales she needed from its corpse. 

Several scales and hours later, Raqel got all the scales the fisherman needed. Her ankle throbbed painfully, but it wasn’t the worst pain she had ever felt. The sun was starting to set and the Weye fisherman might not be there much longer, so Raqel picked up her pace. She caught up to him just before he entered the gate to his home. 

“I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t get those scales for me. I’ve saved so much for my retirement, but it’s just not enough…” 

“I’ve got your damn scales.” 

“By the Nine! You really do have the scales! Thank You! Let it never be said that there are no kind souls in this world. I’ll give you this ring in trade. It allows you to breathe underwater without the need of going up for air. I have no use for it anymore, but I imagine that it would be very valuable to someone like you. Thank you stranger. You’ve shown me kindness and I will think of you in the long comfortable days ahead.” As he handed her the ring as a reward, the Redguard mentioned something about his savings. 

“Where are your savings?” 

“Well, just because you’re a friend. There locked away in a chest in my home. I had it locked by a mage so that I hold the only key that can open it. Pretty fancy, huh?” 

“Yeah… fancy… I’ll be going now.” A sly grin spread across Raqel’s face as she made her way back to the dock. If she were to ever make it in the Thieves Guild, which she would someday hopefully join, she might as well start practicing. Down at the dock, her things were right where she left them. She was just about to make camp when she realized she didn’t have anything to make a fire. “Damnit all!” she scolded. Raqel figured that the Redguard from Weye would no doubt have candles, or a fireplace, or something else that was already aflame. She would have to make due until then. She perched under a tree, waiting for a late hour when she would strike. 

When midnight rolled around Raqel stirred. The night sky was all too familiar to her, but rarely did she ever see one as beautiful as this. Cyrodiil’s two moons shone extravagantly against the black sky. They would produce a perfect light for her. Quickly and quietly she crept to the Weye house. The windows were dark except for the fain glow from a crackling fire. The door was open, so she wouldn’t have to worry about trying the pick the lock without lockpicks. She turned the knob, quietly opening the wood doorl It was a mess on the inside. In the back of the house there was a large pile of broken and mangled crates and barrels. Next to that, however, was the chest. Raqel recalled him saying he had a mage lock the chest so only one key could open it and the lock couldn’t be picked. She would have to steal the key while he slept to get that chest open 

Just then, Raqel hatched a plan. She would get even more revenge on Lex. Raqel crept over to the mangled pile of crates, grabbing a loose board. Then she made her way to the sleeping fisherman. As she passed the dining table, she stumbled on a fallen mug. The clatter stirred the Redguard from his sleep. Raqel shot to the foot of the bed, narrowly avoiding his line of sight. The Redguard searched his small home for any sign of his intruder. His gaze fell upon the mangled pile of wood. Slowly he slipped from the bed, creeping toward the pile. Raqel saw this. Praying to the Gods, she left her hiding spot at the foot of the bed. The fisherman didn’t hear the soft sandals on the ground as Raqel crept up behind him. She stood up, and with all her strength, struck the Redguard in the side of the head with t he board. He fell to the side, landing against his dresser with a thud. The man was out cold. If her plan was to work, however, he would have to live. 

She went to his side, and pressed her head to his chest. Raqel thanked the Gods when she heard his heart beat. She dug into his pockets until she found a key. Hopefully it was the key to his chest. She went back over to the pile of wood ad the chest. The key slid into the lock easily. Whith a click, the lid opened. She was disappointed yet relieved at the same time when she saw around twenty septims in the bottom. She pocketed the coins, shut and locked the chest, the returned to the Redguard. Raqel put the key where she found it, but also took all of the gold on his person. He groaned as she pocketed the last coin. Now was the time for her act. “Oh thank the Gods you’re alright!” 

“What’s going on? Who are you?” 

“You don’t remember me?” 

“No. Who are you?” Perfect… 

“That doesn’t matter right now, you need help. Luckily there is a Legion Guard in the inn across the street. I’ll be right back.” Raqel left the man where he lay and made her way across the street to Wawnet Inn, where a guard was always present. She shot through its doors shouting. “Help! Please, help! Someone’s beet attacked!” Raqel heard the clanking of the guard’s bots before she even saw him. 

“Take me there,” he ordered. Raqel turned, leading him to the Weye house. 

“In there. The poor man was attacked and now he’s delusional. Hurry, you need to help him!” She hated acting helpless, but it was the only way her plan would work. The guard ran to the fisherman’s side, making sure he was alright. 

“He’ll be fine, maybe just some memory loss and a bad headache, but that’s about it. Did you see who did this?” 

“Yes, I was walking down past his house when I heard a noise. I walked up to the door when all of a sudden it shot open. A man in what looked like white Legion armor knocked me over as he ran from the house. He—” Raqel started to choked up, to make her story sound more dramatic. “he… He turned back to me, grabbed my throat and shoved me to the wall.” Raqel tried to make it look like she was crying. “Then he threatened me. Oh it was so horrible!” She broke down crying on the guard’s shoulder, hoping her fake story would take effect. 

“What did he say to you exactly?” he asked, sounding sympathetic. 

“He- he said that if I ever gave him up, he would kill my family and friends. Then, that he would come after me and torture me until I begged for death. Please, you need to catch this monster!” 

“Could you see his face clearly?” 

“N-no, not really. If I saw him, I’d be able to recognize him.” 

“Give me the best description you can.” 

“Well… I couldn’t see his face clearly but he had the kind of blue eyes you never forget. His voice made him sound like he was around, maybe, thirty or so and an Imperial. He had a brownish color to his hair, and it was pulled back in a loose ponytail. I distinctly remember a large silver claymore on his back.” 

“Damnit Lex,” he cursed under his breath. “What’s your nae and what were you doing out here at this hour?” 

“M-my name is Issani, and my poor husband is deathly ill. A mage in chorrol told me that I should find her sister in the imperial City for a cure.” 

“Do you know her name?” 

“No, all I know about her is that she’s an Altmer and I’m suspecting her sister is too.” 

“What about her sister, do you know her name?” 

“She never told me her sisters name, only that I would know her when I saw her.” 

“That will be all, you’re free to go.” 

“Thank you so much! Please, catch this monster before he can hurt anyone else.” 

“Don’t worry ma’am, I will. I’ll get right on it.” 

“Thank you, kind sir!” Raqel threw her arms around the guard in a fake hug of gratitude. 

“You should get going, in case Le— the man should come back.” 

“Oh yes, thank you!” Raqel turned and left the Weye house in a hurry. A devilish grin spread across her face. Lex was going to be in it now, and would finally get what’s coming to him. As soon as the Legion guard was done helping the fisherman out of his house, Raqel snuck back in. She bagged all the food and clothing she could find. Once she was done she grabbed a board, and stuck it in the fireplace to light the end of it. She carried all of her “new” things back to her camp. Finally she would have a fire to keep warm and to cook her food with. Had she thought ahead and brought a torch, she would have been fine. But, she forgot. She wouldn’t consider the fire human help because, in a way, she stole it and it was a necessity. After she was done with her food, Raqel reluctantly doused her fire and curled up under a tree where she made camp. 

 

 

The next few days were filled with countless struggles from being attacked by wolves to bandits at a nearby Ayleid ruin. She had been casually walking by around seven at night when a bandit with a bow noticed her. He had gotten the bright idea to try and mug her. When Raqel refused to give up her possessions, he and his axe wielding buddy decided to attack her. She took the iron dagger of another bandit that had attacked her and failed, and threw it at the archer. It struck him square in the forehead. The bandit with the axe charged her as the other fell to the ground. She drew the pirate’s cutlass just in time to block the first strike. His strength was immense, but Raqel wouldn’t give up She shifted all her weight to one foot, bringing her free leg up between the bandit’s legs. His eyes widened and started to water. Raqel moved her blade in a counterclockwise circle until the axe came free of his grip. Immediately he brought his hands down to his groin and cried out in pain. Raqel took the change to his him fist closed in the chin. The force of the blow sent him flying across the camp. He landed head first in a fire near the center of the camp. He stood up screaming, clawing at the fires that burned his skull. Soon, he fell to the ground motionless, fire still burning. 

Raqel left him there as she retrieved her dagger from the other fallen bandit’s skull. The bone around it cracked as the dagger came loose. Looting what she could from the bandits and there camp, Raqel explored around the Ayleid ruins. She found a door leading inside not far from where the camp was. The fowl smell of fetid meat wafted up through the shaft. She ignored the scent and continued down the finely crafted white stairs. At the base laid the body of yet another bandit. An arrow pierced his skull directly between the eyes. His face was hollow and the kin dried and cracked. He had been dead for several days if not weeks. Anything worth taking had already been looted from his corpse so Raqel continued on. The stairs and winding halls eventually led into a chamber with large quantities of supplies. Near the entrance laid the body of another bandit, this one a Khajiit. Arrows and several places where his armor had been cut by a dagger showed that there was at least a little struggle. After exploring the cavernous room more Raqel found that not everything with value had been taken. She found the pieces to a green robe and a few parts to some iron armor that had been untouched since the bandits were killed. She bagged the robes, knowing the armor would weigh too much for her and continued on. 

In a dark corner, Raqel found the door to a private chamber. She cautiously continued up the stairs, ready for anything that might greet her. The stairway opened up into a small room. To her right was a bandit at a table sitting face down in his own blood. By now all the blood had soaked into the table and dried on the bandit’s face. All around him were glowing blue stones that were obviously of Ayleid make. Curiosity tok over as she wandered over to the table. The stones did not appear to have been tampered with, so Raqel bagged as many as she could carry. “These must be worth a pretty penny,” she said to herself before leaving the corridor. She decided to leave when the thick smell of death and dried blood became too much. Raqel’s back started to ache as her overly heavy pack started to weigh her down. She stopped and discarded everything she wouldn’t need. When she was done, her bag was considerably lighter. She had changed the light fur armor that was used and word to some fresh, lightly used armor, leaving behind the old. She discarded some of the extra daggers she hadn’t used. Among that she left behind shields of fur and iron make. Raqel made her way back through the twisting halls of the old Ayleid city. Her boots clicked on the well crafted floor of the ruins, echoing down the empty corridors. 

Thunder cracked in the distance as she emerged from the ruins. A storm was brewing, Raqel would need to find a shelter soon that hopefully wouldn’t reek of death or be the home to traveling bandits. Farther down the road she could see the faint structure of an old fort. If there was no thread from bandits or the wildlife of Tamriel, Raqel would make camp. If there was, however, she would force herself to continue. Luckily for her the worst thing there was a few deer that quickly bounded off. She made shelter under a broken overhang that was a solid floor at one time. The storm she had heard had come swiftly and fiercely. The wind blew strong and hard, but left her virtually untouched in her camp under the shelter of the once mighty fort. It was hard, but Raqel forced herself to sleep while the storm raged on outside.


	4. Chapter 4

The storm continued until late the next morning. Raqel stretched her stiff muscles while the sky slowly cleared itself of clouds. Her cover under the fort had kept her dry the entire night. She started a fire and began to cook a small breakfast of eggs from a nearby nest and some venison. When she was finished, she packed up her things and continued on. The day passed by slowly as she made her way around the Imperial City. By the time the sun went down she had made it to Pells Gate, directly south of the Waterfront. If she wanted to, Raqel could try and swim the distance. However, it wouldn’t do her any good if she got too tired and drowned on the way. No one would really miss her, but then she would never really know if her brother was alive or not. 

After nearly a week of pick pocketing random travelers, fending off bandits and wild animals, and running through strange ruins, Raqel had acquired plenty of supplies as well as a large quantity of gold. While her dinner was cooking that night, she took the time to count all the gold she had. Her dinner had finished before she was done and she had already counted more than 600 gold! Raqel put the gold aside and went to eat. While she was eating, she took out a small map with all the known places around Cyrodiil marked. Raqel took note of the Daedric shrine not too far from where se was. She decided to check it out when she would pass by the next day. Depending on the offering she would run whatever errand the Daedric Prince would have her do. 

She watched as a singe traveler passed by her camp. He was young, no older than twenty five by her guess. He was clad in a strange armor she only knew too well. She had asked around about the armor and heard that it belonged to the Emperor’s personal guards, the Blades. After hearing about the Emperor’s death, she didn’t think she would see a Blade walking around. 

Quickly and quietly she stirred from her spot, following the blade as he walked. As they continued on, the sky progressively turned to a strange red hue. Raqel didn’t seem to notice until they came upon a large glowing structure. Volcanic rock formed a gate of sorts with red glowing tendrils stemming from it. The center of the gate appeared water-like as it rippled when several strange creatures emerged from it. One appeared to be half woman, half arachnid. The skin of her human-looking half was ash white along with her hair. Her spider half was that of charcoal, with a red webbing cris-crossing across it. The other looked almost like a dragon, only it had no wings. Its large powerful jaws and teeth could tear through anything. Behind them was the strangest of the group. It had a human-like shape to its body; however, it was covered head to toe with what appeared to be red obsidian armor. The shoulders and helmet were adorned with spikes while every where else was covered with jagged ridges. 

All three appeared to be close-range combatants. The blade, however, came with a complete arsenal. He had an Akaviri Katana at his waist, an Akaviri Dai-Katana across his back next to his silver bow and full quiver of arrows. Raqel hid behind a nearby tree, wondering how this face-off would end. All appeared strong, physically as well as mentally, and seemed to have the desire to kill the other. 

The dragon-like creature moved first. It charged slowly toward the blade. The mad retaliated faster than the creature could move. He drew his bow and knocked an arrow in a fraction of a second. Instantaneously, he shot the bow at the human looking creature in the strange armor. It tried to move, but was too late as the arrow pierced his throat just below the helmet. Blood sprayed everywhere as it grabbed at its throat and fell back. The blade threw down his bow as the dragon-like creature neared. He pulled the Dai-Katana from his back and ran at the strange creature. The thing tried to attack him, but the Blade was too quick. He ran to its side and drove the Dai-Katana into its spine. The creature fell forward, paralyzed. Suddenly the Blade fell to the ground. Raqel was confused as to why, until she saw the spider. It had summoned a miniature of itself, which unknown by the Blade, had come up behind him and cast a paralyze spell. The large spider-like thing had then started to move. It ran as fast as its eight legs could carry it. 

Without realizing it, Raqel had stepped out from behind the tree and drawn her bow. She quickly knocked an arrow and took aim. Within seconds, the spider creature was dead and Raqel was walking over to the Blade. He seemed astonished that someone was nearby to help him. She helped get him to his feet when the spell wore off. He’s not that old, she noticed. He’s younger than I am, I know that. Gratitude showed in his eyes, but not in his face. “Uh, thanks… I guess,” he said, removing his helmet. Raqel was amazed he looked to only be about eighteen or so. “I could have handled it.” 

“Not by the looks of it. That spider would have made mince meat out of you before you stood up.” 

“The spider daedra are nearly harmless. It’s their summons that you need to take out first.” 

“A spider what?” 

“A spider daedra. You know, the daedra from the demonic world of Oblivion?” 

“No… I don’t.” 

“You’ve never heard of Oblivion? Hell, I would have thought everyone would have known by now.” 

“Is that what that is?” she asked while pointing to the structure. 

“Sort of. That’s a gate to Oblivion. Behind that is a plane of Oblivion. These things have been showing up everywhere. I’ve counted eight between here and Skingrad. I closed eleven in the Kvatch sector alone.” 

“How do you close something like this? It doesn’t seem possible.” 

“If you want me to, I can show you. As long as I don’t have to do all the killing.” The dragon creature next to them roared in frustration at its inability to move. Raqel took a dagger from its sheath and threw it. The dagger struck the creature at the base of its skull, killing it instantly. 

“I don’t think that will be a problem.” 

“Alight… let’s go then.” The gate rippled again as the Blade walked through it. Raqel hesitated, but followed reluctantly. Beyond the gate was a world beyond Raqel’s wildest dreams. Arches of what appeared to be claws or teeth marked their path, black spiny towers rose above them. Lava boiled around the scattered land masses that stretched for eternity. Raqel was awe struck at the sight. Along the trail and into the distance, dozens of daedra could be seen. “We need to get there,” he said, pointing toward the tallest tower. Several sharp prongs protruded from its top. Raqel gulped, wondering how they would ever make it through all the daedra. 

“I don’t suppose there is an easy way to do this?” 

“Unless you consider killing nearly a hundred daedra, getting to the top of that tower, and removing the sigil stone easy, then no.” 

“Great…” The Blade lead on toward the tower ahead. 

 

 

Raqel landed on the ground in a heap, feeling sick to the stomach. She nearly vomited as she stood up. A pile of rubble lay where the gate once stood. “What,” she gagged, “just happened?” 

“We shut the gate. Or, should I say, you shut the gate.” 

“What did I do? All I did was grab the stone like you told me to.” Raqel stared at the strange obsidian-like stone in her arms. It was heavy, and almost perfectly spherical. It pulsed with orange energy regularly, never missing a beat. 

“The sigil stone is what keeps the gate open. When you removed it, the gate couldn’t sustain itself and collapsed.” 

“Then how did we end up back here?” 

“I’m not sure how or why, but when the sigil stone is taken from its hold, we get transported back to Cyrodiil before it collapses.” Raqel was about the hand the Blade the stone, but he stopped her. “You keep it. The stones hold a special, individual power. They can enchant items, and you might need this one. Besides, I have plenty already.” The Blade left Raqel where she sat, walking in the general direction of Bravil. 

Raqel didn’t move as he disappeared. Who was this Blade? Why did she feel like she had seen him before? Was he an Imperial Legion Solider as well? She had heard that many Blades were in the Legion when not doing important business. Raqel just assumed that was the case, but it didn’t seem to fit. She gathered her senses and grabbed her sword from the ground in front of her. She decided that after a days rest at her current camp, she would go to the Daedric shrine nearby. According to the map, it was the Shrine of Clavicus Vile. He was a greedy Daedric Prince, but Raqel guessed that she had enough gold to offer. 

Raqel got back to her camp in no time at all and was relieved to see it had not been disturbed. Her fire had gone out sometime while she was gone, but that was the only problem she had found. She restarted her fire with a torch she had taken from a fort ruin and banked it before dozing off. 

 

 

Raqel slept late the next morning and enjoyed herself the whole day. She spent most of her time counting gold or spying on passer bys that happened to cross her camp. She slept late again the next day, but was grateful for the rest. Her fire had staid lit for the whole two days, and used it to make a large breakfast. She had to admit to herself she wasn’t the greatest cook in Cyrodiil, but she was good enough to make edible food. Once she was finished she doused her fire and continued on her way. By following the road and the map she had, Raqel made it to the shrine in no time at all. At the shrine there were three worshipers. The Khajiit seemed to hold the most authority, so she approached him first. He muttered something about a 500 septim offering as well as some other things Raqel didn’t worry about. She pulled out her offering and placed it on the shrine. A harsh voice soon filled her hears. The Daedric Prince told her of a Bosmer residing in a nearby Ayleid ruin that he wanted her to kill. He told her to bring back the Bosmer, Umbra’s, sword and he would reward her accordingly. Raqel hoped that the reward would be worth more than what she had paid as an offering. She quickly strung her bow and went on her way. 

It was a quick trip to the Ayleid ruin of Vindasel. The well crafted white stone was welcoming, but reminded her of her last visit to an Ayleid ruin. This ruin smelled of death, but not nearly as bad as Vilverin was. Atleast this ruin wasn’t filled with dead bandits. Yet. Raqel made it to the large chamber where Umbra camped with few issues. The only problem she had was a gas trap she accidentally triggered. She was still coughing when she reached the chamber. Raqel noticed Umbra was wearing thick and heavily adorned ebony armor. The only parts of her skin that were exposed were her throat and face. Both were deadly targets when struck. This would be a true test of her marksmanship. She knew she was good, but was she good enough? Raqel found a spot where she would have a clear shot at Umbra’s vitals. The closest area she could find wasn’t as close as she would have wanted, but it would have to do. 

Raqel positioned herself and drew her bow. Her shot was clear, but it would be a matter of estimating distance and aiming correctly. She pulled back her steel bow with a matching arrow knocked, then took aim. Se let the arrow fly, watching it go. The harrow was high and ultimately bounced harmlessly off Umbra’s helmet. The Bosmer turned to her enraged. She drew a wicked looking black blade from its sheath and charged Raqel shouting, “Umbra!” Raqel had just slung her bow across her back and drew her steel long sword before Umbra had reached her. The Bosmer’s strength was enormous and Raqel struggled against it. Umbra pounded on Raqel ferociously with her sword, but Raqel was quick and agile compared to her. She was able to block each of the Bosmer’s attacks, but at a great cost. With each strike Raqel grew weaker and weaker. Her strength was leaving her as Umbra fought on. Raqel doubted she would be able to hold on much longer. Her mind was racing, trying to find a way to escape this ruthless beating she was retrieving from this unlikely elf. 

Then she saw it. Next to her, the railing and part of the wall had broken up, creating an easy decent to the floor below. Down there, Raqel would have enough room to maneuver and possibly defeat her foe. As Umbra raised her fearsome blade once more, Raqel dove to the side and tumbled to the floor. As she stood again, she could feel her strength returning. Enraged, Umbra charged down after her. The Bosmer was slow and clumsy compared to Raqel’s speed, and she used it to her advantage. Raqel jumped to the side as umbra ran past her. She grabbed the back of Umbra’s cuirass and jumped to her back. Raqel then proceeded to reach in front of Umbra and grab her helmet. She jabbed her fingers into Umbra’s eye sockets as she pulled up. Raqel could feel the skin tear as she removed the helmet from the Bosmer’s head. Umbra charged blinded by blood around the chamber in the ruin. At the perfect time Raqel jumped back from Umbra, pushing her forward. She landed headfirst in the fire pit in the center of the chamber. Umbra ran blindly, clawing at her face as the fire burned. Soon, Umbra fell to the ground and remained motionless. It was over, Raqel had won. 

Raqel retrieved Umbra’s sword which lay on the ground near her body. She then figured it would be a waste to leave such finely crafted armor in an Ayleid ruin where it might never be found. Quickly, she doused the fire that burned Umbra’s skull, her face now devoid of all features. Umbra’s cuirass was slightly charred, but remained mostly unscathed. Raqel quickly stripped Umbra of her armor, but soon found out she wouldn’t be able to carry it in her pack. She decided to leave her fur armor that she was currently wearing behind and wear Umbra’s armor instead. In no time at all, Raqel was fully suited in the Bosmer’s ebony armor. It was encumbering at first, but she soon grew used to it. When Raqel was ready to leave the ruins, she took the time to examine the sword she was supposed to retrieve fro Clavicus Vile. It was fine made, probably the best she had ever seen. Its edges were sharp and could cleave there way through most armor. While sliding her finger across its edge, she accidentally nicked her finger. It bled only slightly, but a purple and black mist rose from the wound. “A soul trap enchantment,” she said to herself. “That would explain why I got so tired so soon while fighting her.” Raqel now regretted killing the poor Bosmer. Umbra would have been a valuable ally, but now she was gone. She decided she would not give Clavicus Vile the satisfaction of winning. She would keep Umbra’s sword, no mater what the reward was. 

Before she left, Raqel gave Umbra a burial fit for kings. She set Umbra up on a pile of wood and covered her with hay and more wood that she found around the campsite. She set the pile aflame and watched as it enveloped the fearsome fighter. Raqel left hastily, avoiding all the traps she had seen on the way in, even the gas one. The sunlight burned her eyes as she emerged from the ruins. It was still only around midday, which would give her plenty of time to reach Clavicus Vile’s shrine. She walked slowly toward the shrine, saving her remaining strength just in case. The walk back took almost twice as long as the journey to the ruins. The same three worshipers paced aimlessly around the shrine, oblivious to their surroundings. Raqel approached slowly and cautiously, unsure of what to expect. Her hand rested on Umbra’s hilt as she approached the statue of the Daedric Pince. “You have the sword, yes? Umbra is dead, is she not?” 

“Yes, Umbra is dead.” 

“Haha! I knew it! And the sword?” 

“Yes I have the sword.” 

“Give it to me! Give me the sword!” 

“No,” she refused simply. 

“What?” 

“No,” she repeated. 

“You would defy a Daedric Lord? You would dare refuse me, Clavicus Vile?” 

“Yeah,” she answered then left. The worshipers stood with their jaws to the ground. Anger seared in their eyes, but they were too awed to do anything about the one who refused their Lord. No one had ever refused Clavicus Vile what he wanted. Yet this stranger denied him what he desired most. 

Raqel walked triumphantly from the shrine in the general direction she needed to go. If she paced herself just right, she could reach the Weye house by dark. Raqel wondered if anyone believed the stories she made up about Lex. He would be in for it if they did. However, any plan could backfire, no matter how foolproof it was. Raqel knew this for a fact. She picked up her pace in anticipation. If there was news about Lex, the Black Horse Courier would have it by now. Since most of their latest issues were so boring, no one would read them. Lex being a murder and assault suspect would sure help their business. Raqel would be doing many people a favor by getting Lex put away. The Grey Fox and the Thieves Guild wouldn’t have him on their backs, and the people of the Waterfront wouldn’t have to put up with his interrogations and accusations. The black Horse Courier would get a peaked interest with the story of Lex’s fall. Raqel smiled to herself as she passed the Weye house and walked to the Imperial City.


	5. Chapter 5

Raqel placed the ebony helmet on her head so no one would recognize her as she walked to the waterfront. She didn’t want to be seen wearing such expensive armor, considering she was begging for money some weeks before. Without being noticed, she slipped onto the Marie Elena. She quietly changed from the armor so her usual sack cloth pants and collared shirt. The ship didn’t appear to have been inhabited for a while, but showed some use. Raqel quietly slipped out the back way, landing on softly on the sand nearby. She walked around the back side of the waterfront to where the shacks were located. Nothing appeared to have changed since she was away. Raqel found her usual spot by the Garden of Deroloth’s entrance, only there was extra bedroll. She didn’t think much of it as she went to look for Puny Ancus. If Devany had returned to the Marie Elena, Ancus would have the note. 

She found him not far from his usual spot by the Bloated Float. He didn’t seem to be having much luck as several potential victims walked by without even acknowledging his presence. He saw Raqel approaching, and to his surprise, she looked completely unscathed. “Your back, and without a scratch.” 

“At least not that you can see,” she chuckled. “Do you have a letter for me?” 

“What?” 

“I told someone to leave a letter for me with you. Don’t you have it?” 

“I was never given any letter.” 

“Damnit… never mind then.” Raqel walked away. If Puny Ancus didn’t have the letter, then who did? She walked back to the Marie Elena to look for clues. She passed by a Black Horse Courier vender as he shouted about the latest article. She heard him clamor on about the murder of Valen Dreth and the assault in the Weye settlement. This is what Raqel had been waiting for! She snatched an article from him, waiting eagerly to see how long Lex was going to be put away. 

_ Dreth Murder Solved!  _

_ While Hieronymus Lex seemed like a prime suspect for the murder of Valen Dreth and the Assault of Adwin Merowald, the mystery has been solved! Shortly after the murder of Dreth, an eye witness and prisoner was interviewed. She claimed to have seen an imperial wearing legion armor as the murderer. She continued her story, and as she went on it seemed more and more likely that Lex was the assailant. He was put on leave as the investigation continued.  _

_ Not much later Lex was accused of the assault of the fisherman Adwin Merowald who lives at the Weye settlement. Again, an eye witness was interviewed and gave a nearly perfect description of the captain. After further investigation, Lex had not been at the Weye settlement at the time of the assault. In fact, he had been dining in one of the many Legion barracks that scatter the city. Many Legion soldiers vouched for him when questioned. This discovery had opened up many doors for investigators.  _

Raqel could barely believe her eyes! Lex had an alibi and couldn’t be the murderer. She was curious about who they found to be the murderer, so she read on. 

No one in the Legion fit the description that was given on two separate accounts, so investigators expanded their search. They examined many houses and their inhabitants throughout the city to find the culprit. After several days, they came upon Cladius Arcadia’s house. They found a suit of steel armor, which appears similar to the white Legion armor worn by captains and Palace Guards, and a bow of silver make that could have been used to murder Dreth. Upon entering Arcadia’s basement, they found him kneeling at a shrine to Sithis, one of the gods whom the Dark Brotherhood worship. They found him praying to the night mother, the voice of the Dark Brotherhood and also another one of their gods. 

Arcadia was immediately arrested and charged with murder, assault, and premeditated murder. He won’t say who his next victim was and denies having any involvement with the murder of Valen Dreth and the assault of Merowald. 

Raqel was absolutely stunned. She thought her plan was foolproof, but somehow the legion got around that aspect. They couldn’t stand the fact that one of their own might be a murderer, so they looked for a loophole. In the process they had even found someone who deserved to be arrested. Her plan didn’t go exactly as planned, but that would just mean she would have to work harder. She disposed of the article and continued to the Marie Elena. 

When she observed the changes in the ship more closely, she saw that very little had been disturbed. Only the desk showed some use. Looking closer, she found the original two scrolls that had been on the desk, and even the one she had wrote. All three had been moved, and now there was a fourth. She suspected it was from Devany, who probably passed through. She unrolled the note and read it carefully. 

 

Dear Raqel, 

I am indeed the Devany you thought I was. I would have left this note with the beggar you instructed me to, but being part of the Brotherhood, I don’t trust easily. Considering you’ve kept your mouth shut so far, I believe I can trust you. For now. You’re arrange ment seems reasonable, although I won’t be in the Imperial City often. I hold residence elsewhere, so unless there is a contract that allows me to pass through the City, you won’t see me often. I advise you to burn this letter as well as the one you wrote, just in case the Legion connects you or I with any crimes. That way the other will not be in danger of being discovered. Attached below is a document stating that you are my boat keeper and maid while I am away. I switched the name in the will to the fake one stated on the document. Be sure to use the false name I gave you, just in case the Legion asks. 

May Sithis guide you, 

Devany 

 

Raqel looked at the parchment that Devany had attached. The name sounded foreign, but it would have to do. She was pleased to now have a place to sleep and wouldn’t have to worry about where her next meal would come from. This would give her the opportunity to prepare for the Arena. Raqel took Devany’s advice and hastily burned the notes with a candle. She then threw them out the back door into the water. Soon, there would be no trace of the deal they had made. 

Raqel decided to relax for the next day, considering she hadn’t been able to for the past week. When she kicked off her shoes she noticed a sound that she had been oblivious to before. It was an eerie rumble emitting from the chest. She unlocked it and noticed the sigil stone once again. It appeared to be the source of the noise, which caused Raqel to examine it more closely. The stone was almost perfectly spherical and seemed to emanate an orangeish glow. The stone slipped from her grip and landed hard on the floor. It rolled away from her, leaving a strange cloudy trail wherever it went. Raqel picked it up again, deciding it would be best if she stored it and any others down below. She would make a note and place it on the crate she would store it in to remember where it was. 

Soon the cabin was quiet again as Raqel relaxed in the dining room. She grabbed a bottle of Tamika’s West Weald Wine and rested. She savored the flavor as she swallowed each gulp. It had a strong but unique flavor. The wine tasted much better than the Surellie brand she drank last time. Raqel recalled hearing that both wine manufacturers were based in Skingrad. With another chug she thought about what Skingrad was like. She imagined it as a bunch of drunkards and cheese makers. The visual of the city caused her to laugh a little. Of course, she had never been to the city, so she didn’t know what it was really like. She had even heard that the Count there had ruled for many years and was rumored to be a powerful mage. Why a mage would want to be a count was beyond her. 

She drank the last drop of wine before deciding to get something to eat. The cupboard contained many varieties of fruits, vegetables, and dried meats. She grabbed some dried boar meat and fruit to nibble on. When she sat down, Raqel noticed a strange plant that was in a pot on the table. It had a blueish-green hue and seemed to emit a yellow glow. The leaves were slippery to the touch, but seemed to thrive in the little light that was provided. Raqel studied the strange plant while she ate. She even remembered seeing similar plants along the shore of Lake Rumare during her week of “exploring.” When Raqel was done eating her small meal, she pushed the thought of the plant to the back of her mind. As tired as she was, it took Raqel several minutes to finally fall asleep on the small bed in the cabin. 

 

Raqel got an early start the next morning. She quickly suited up in her ebony armor with Umbra on her belt. Today would be the day that she would join the Arena ranks. She left the waterfront feeling confident and unyielding. No matter the requirements, Raqel would meet them. All the talk she had overheard about the arena was about the unbeaten Grand Champion, they Grey Prince. She would take his throne, right out from under his feet! 

Raqel continued through the Arena District. The gigantic coliseum occupied most of the space, still there was enough room for a large statue of the original Blademaster, Gaiden Shinji. It was he who birthed the idea to build an arena in the Imperial City. Every combatants hears, and even some recite his credo: “The best techniques are passed on by the survivors.” Sadly enough, Shinji had been killed fighting orcs not too long after the Arena was completed. Raqel vowed to be the next Gaiden Shinji. All the spectators would come to see her, not some orc who claimed to be royalty but showed no proof. She proudly walked through the arena doors to the Bloodworks. To her surprise, very few combatants were actually training. Not so sure of herself anymore, Raqel walked past a male Dunmer in a blue raiment. 

“Oh, hey there!” he called as she passed. She rolled her eyes to the Dunmer who was too friendly for her tastes. “Nice to make you’re acquaintance. I’m, well, my names not important really. I’m a combatant in the Arena. Gladiator rank.” Raqel told herself she would get past that measly rank, no matter what. 

“Just tell me where I can find the Blademaster.” 

“That’s Owyn. He’s in charge of the Arena. Arranges the fights, trains combatants, that sort of thing. Been that way since Gaiden Shinji. He was-” 

“I know who Shinji was! Just tell me where Owyn is,” she demanded, her fuse getting shorter. 

“He’s just inside the farthest door down on the left. Just before the Red Room.” 

Raqel walked in that direction without even thanking the man. She found the door he had mentioned and saw the Redguard. He was garbed in all steel armor with short cropped black hair. A deadly steel longsword hung at his waist, but Raqel guessed it was no match for Umbra. She approached the Blademaster with her confidence renewed. “I don’t know who you are friend, but you’ve got about ten seconds to tell me what you’re doing in my Bloodworks before I rip your arms off.” 

“Care to try it?” She countered, a fierce look in her eyes. Owyn moved, but not quite fast enough. Raqel grabbed his wrist and, while twisting it, turned him around and pushed him to the wall. He laughed a little, then before she knew it they had switched places and she was against the wall. 

“I like your spunk, kid. How’s about this, I’ll give you thirty seconds to tell me why you’re down here.” 

“I want to be a combatant.” 

“You what? You want to be a combatant?” he laughed as he backed off. “Look at you! My granny could beat you, and she’s dead! You’ve got spunk, but that won’t save you as you’re getting you’re limbs torn off.” He laughed even harder than he had before. Raqel stood with her arms crossed, waiting for him to finish.“Wait, your serious aren’t you? What is it with you people? You walk in, want to be combatants, and your entrails end up all over my Red Room. Alright, it’s your funeral. Welcome to the Arena, you filthy Pit Dog. You’re free to fight, so long as you know the rules of competition. Now, let me give you your Battle Raiment. It’s the uniform of all Arena combatants. Do you want a light Raiment or a Heavy Raiment.” Raqel thought about it. She would be more comfortable in light armor and she could move better, but she felt safer in heavy armor. She decided on the light raiment. “A light raiment huh? You sure? I figured you for the heavy raiment type. You know, hide behind a skin of steel? And considering that fancy ebony armor you’ve got on there. Hmph, okay then, here. Put that on, see if it fits okay. When you’re ready for a match I’ll be waiting. You want to fight you come to me.” 

“What are the rules, just so I know them beforehand?” 

“You fight for the Blue Team, you fight against the Yellow Team. In order to fight in the Arena you must wear an Arena Battle Raiment. The raiment covers most of your body. You can use your own helmet, shield, and weapon, so choose wisely. The battle raiment is already enchanted so you can’t muck with that. Aside from that, anything goes. Magic, stealth… whatever you need to win. You can compete in the Arena any day from nine a.m. to nine p.m. Come to me, tell me your ready for a match, and away you’ll go. Got it? Good. If you actually manage to win a fight don’t get any ideas about looting your opponents corpse! That’s strictly forbidden.” 

Raqel left to go try on her raiment. She found a good secluded corner by some bedrolls just past the Red Room. The only eyes that could see her where that of a boar, and he was locked up behind bars. She quickly stripped her encumbering armor and slipped into the light raiment. It was a little tight, but she would manage. She hesitated about using the helmet. It was useful, however it got in her way often and became more trouble than it was worth. She quickly dismissed the idea and quickly grabbed Umbra and her shield. It felt good wearing light armor again after having used the heavy armor she got from Umbra only a few days before. When everything fit properly, she returned to Owyn. 

“You haven’t run home to momma yet, huh? That’s a good sign. So, you ready for a match, or do you just need information?” 

“I’m ready to kick some ass.” 

“Alright maggot, looks like you’re suited up in your Battle Raiment and all set to go. The Red Room is just over there. When you’re ready to get eviscerated, just head up the ramp to the Arena. Good luck, and may Azura have mercy on your soul.” Raqel disregarded his more gruesome comments and turned around. As she was headed toward the Red Room, she bumped into a Nord wearing a heavy yellow raiment. 

“I’m training here, weakling. Why don’t you go somewhere more your speed, like the mages guild.” Raqel decided to make her death slow and painful. She found the red room without problems, and it fit its name well. The walls and floors where completely covered in blood. The ramp Owyn had mentioned was well lit at first, but it was soon hard to see directly in front of you. She found the door leading to the Arena shortly thereafter. The light blinded her at first, but her eyes soon adjusted. Trails of blood and pieces of flesh lead up to the gate she was to wait behind. Almost immediately after she set foot in the caged area the announcer spoke. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Imperial City, welcome to the Arena! For this match we’ve got some fresh meat. Two brand new Pit Dogs, so let’s not waste time. Let the battle begin!” As soon as the announcer was finished, the gates started to lower. They seemed slow at first, but as soon as they were all the way down they didn’t appear to have gone slow enough. Raqel was almost startled by the speed at which the Yellow Team Pit Dog charged from the gate. She barely had enough time to jump out of the way before his sword landed where she had just stood. Raqel ran for one of the four stone pillars located near the center of the ring, the Yellow Team Pit Dog hot on her heals. She grabbed the chain that hung down in one hand, and a torch that had been hung on the pillar in the other. She pulled herself up the pillar using the chain, but only got just above the other combatants head. She pushed straight down onto the Yellow Team Pit Dog, shoving the torch down his throat. 

The crowd roared loudly as Raqel grabbed the man’s throat, extinguishing his life in a final effort. She stood and walked back the way she had come. The first match was easier than she expected, but she was still only a Pit Dog. The real fighting would come with a later rank. Once again, the announcer’s voice bounced off the Ayleidoon walls. “We have a winner! Victor from the Blue Team, leave the Arena now and rest. You’ve earned it.” 

“Damn right I have,” she said to herself while walking back down to the Bloodworks. She walked back to Owyn, who looked surprised to see her. 

“By the Nine Divine, you did it! You actually won! You ain’t so bad after all, Pit Dog. You may even survive enough matches to advance in rank. Here, kid, this is your payout for the victory. There’s more where that came from if you keep winning. Now go and unwind before your next fight.” 

Raqel pocketed the coins he handed her. It was only fifty Septims, but it would have to do. Not that she needed much “unwinding,” she strode over to where she stashed her things. She took a drink from her water bag and a bite from an apple before returning to Owyn for her next fight. 

“Okay, so you’re not a complete looser. Don’t get cocky. Let me know when you’re ready for a match and you can prove yourself to me some more.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much? Just shut up and let me fight.” 

“Haha! Now that’s the spirit! You give the people of cyrodiil a good show, and I’ll make sure you get a decent burial.” Raqel just rolled her eyes and walked away as he laughed. 

The next fight had been easy, if not easier than the first. In no time, Raqel had advanced from Pit Dog to Brawler, to Bloodletter, and beyond. The people of Cyrodiil recognized her when she stepped into the ring. Even Owyn was starting to show her some respect. All the while the Dunmer Gladiator had been eyeing her with a lustful glance. She could recognize that stare anywhere, considering her past. After every match he would congratulate her, his eyes more lust filled than before. He was the only thing that annoyed her since she joined the Arena, besides Owyn’s ever changing moods. 

Raqel still felt like dirt under someone’s boot, until she reached warriors rank. “You’re a warrior now,” Owyn said, ”That ain’t no joke. They may not know your name, but the people out there, the spectators, they know you now. They come to this Arena to see you, so get out there and give them what they want!” 

“Who am I up against this time?” she asked. 

“I’ve seen this one fight before. She’s a Nord, very quick, very strong. She favors a longsword and knows how to use it. Don’t underestimate her.” Raqel had hoped it was that Yellow Team Nord that she always saw wandering around the Bloodworks, but that Nord always used an axe, not a sword. It couldn’t be her. 

“I won’t…” Raqel walked the familiar path through the Red Room and to the Arena. The fight was no different than any of her last ones. The announcer spoke, making the match more dramatic than it really was, then the gates lowered. The fight was over almost as soon as it started. The Nord charged out as fast as her large legs could carry her. Just as they were about to collide, Raqel jumped off to the side, narrowly avoiding the deadly longsword. She grabbed the Nord’s shoulder and quickly, as hard as she could, kicked the back of her knee. She screamed as a sickening crack sounded. Raqel grabbed a dagger from her belt and struck downward at the base of the Nord’s neck. She fell over sideways and bled out from her severed jugular. Raqel retrieved her dagger and left for the Bloodworks, not even bothering with what the announcer said. It was always the same. 

Without wasting anytime she returned to Owyn. “You left that Nord in pretty rough shape, Warrior. They’ll probably have to ship her back to Skyrim in pieces. Nice work. Here’s your take.” She pocketed her coins and returned to her corner. Just as she sat down the Dunmer Gladiator walked over. 

“So it’s Warrior rank now, huh? That was some pretty intense fighting up there.” 

“Hmm,” she mumbled over a mouth full of apple. 

“I haven’t seen anyone fight like that since that Nord took over as Champion. But I think you can take her.” Raqel just ignored the praise he offered her. “I’m just glad you’re on the Blue Team, I would hate to have to end up fighting you.” 

“Because you know I’d win,” she stated, taking another bite. 

“Most likely. That and you’re completely merciless. The way you killed that Nord was brutal!” 

“If you don’t leave now I’ll leave you looking worse than she was.” 

The Dunmer quickly tensed then walked off. Maybe now he’ll leave me alone. Raqel stood up, barely winded from her last fight. She strode over to Owyn, ready for her next match. Her next opponent was a High Elf, a spell caster, but it was over quickly. She escaped with only a few burns and some cold spots, but was relatively unharmed. It wasn’t long before she was ready for her last match as a Warrior. She had some difficulty, but finished the fight in no time at all. After that match, she decided to avoid Orcs with warhammers the size of small children.


	6. Chapter 6

“Gladiator, it’s not very often I get to call someone that. You’re doing the Blue Team proud, kid. Now go kill somebody before I get all weepy!” 

“Gladly, who’s next?” 

“Listen, the next match is an outratge, but there’s nothing I can do about it!” 

“Great… who am I going to have to kill this time?” 

“You’ve got three opponents this time, and you have to beat them all! They’re Argonian prisoners brought here from Black Marsh. They’ve been told they have to kill you in exchange for their freedom! I don’t know what crimes they’ve committed, but it’s your life or their freedom! The choice should be pretty clear! Get going, and watch yourself!” 

Raqel sighed heavily as she walked toward the Red Room. This fight just ruined her day. Her mood got even worse when she saw the Dunmer Gladiator by the gate. 

“You did it!” he cheered.”You made it to Gladiator rank, same as me! Here’s to a long successful career my friend!” 

“Move out of my way. I’ve got some prisoners to execute.” The gladiator was confused, but moved out of her way as he was told. Raqel mumbled the entire way to the gate. As soon as it was lowered, Raqel grabbed a handful of sand. When the prisoners were close enough, she threw the sand into their eyes, hoping they had sensitive eyes like most reptiles. Luckily, they did. One recovered from her surprise faster than she expected. He charged her, his short blade drawn. She ducked below his swing as he ran past, then cut down his back from shoulder to hip. He fell to the ground as the female charged. She was unarmed but still thought she could kill Raqel. The Argonian swung at her, but Raqel jumped back before the punch had a chance to land. She swung hard and fast and caught the Argonian in a downward swipe on the neck where it met her torso. Umbra caught on her collar bone, so Raqel was forced to withdraw the blade while cutting across her neck. 

The final Argonian decided to charge her, unsure of what to do. Raqel stunned him with a blow from her shield while drawing a dagger. She brought the small blade down to his foot, just between the bones. As he screamed in pain, she pulled the dagger from his foot and cut up across his throat and under his chin. He fell backward, gurgling and drowning in his own blood. Satisfied with her manner of execution, she returned to the Bloodworks while the crowd roared. She paused shortly in the Red Room to clean the blood from her blades and armor. Once they were spotless she continued to Owyn. 

“They Yellow Team surprised even me with that match. Three against one! I guess they didn’t know who they were dealing with, huh? Well done.” Raqel stopped and rested for about an hour before deciding she was ready for the next match. “You ain’t gonna stop until you hit Champion, are you? Well good! The Blue Team needs as much glory as it can get.” 

“Just tell me who I need to disembowel next.” 

“Let’s get you back up in that Arena so you can start cracking some skulls! The next one’s a Breton. He looks like a bit of a dandy, but he’s deady with a blade. He has more experience than you, so be prepared.” 

“I’ll be fine.” Raqel headed back up to the Arena, and it wasn’t long before she returned, Umbra soaked in blood. “All done,” she chide. 

“By defeating that Breton you’ve secured your advancement. It’s been a long time since I’ve said this, but congratulations, Hero. You’re about to face off against the best the Yellow Team has to offer. Azura knows you’re the best the Blue Team’s got. Better wait ‘til tomorrow though, it’s too late to fight now.” 

“I’m not complaining,” she sighed. She dragged her feet over to her designated corner. As she stripped off her raiment, she noticed how tuned she had become in the last week or so. Her arms showed definition, her stomach was hard as a rock, and her legs were free of excess fat. She wasn’t the only one admiring her body at the time. The Gladiator had been watching her every move, only wishing she would have him. She was the woman he had been waiting for, but she couldn’t stand him! He dreaded what she must think of him, but he wouldn’t know for sure unless she told him upfront. 

He waited until she was dressed before he approached. “You made it to Hero! I… I’m still practicing, but I’ll get there one day!” 

“That’s great, can you leave now? I need to get some sleep. I can’t be tired while kicking the Yellow Team’s ass. I might just slip up and get myself killed. You wouldn’t want that, now would you?” 

“N-no.” 

“Good. Then get going before you’re blamed for causing the death of the best fighter to enter the Arena since Gaiden Shinji.” 

“Well, actually, he never-” 

“Go!” 

I knew it! He shouted in his head. She can’t stand me! Well, if she doesn’t want me, it doesn’t mean I can’t have her. He continued practicing his archery, his mind plotting deviously. He watched as Raqel packed up the few belongings she had with her and left the Arena. He followed her, keeping a safe distance away, as she strode toward the Imperial Waterfront. He saw her stop at the Marie Elena for a short while, but she soon continued down the path. He watched as she conversed with a filthy looking beggar. He didn’t appear to be begging for money, but one can only assume. After a quick hug, she continued on. 

The Dunmer closed the distance between them as she unlocked the door to her small shack. Just as the door was about to close, he placed his hand in the doorway, firmly gripping the door. He opened it quietly, slipping in as Raqel dropped her stuff on the floor. 

Behind her, she heard the shifting of her ceramic pot. She whipped around to see the Dunmer Gladiator admiring it. “Why are you here?” she demanded. 

“Just wanted to see the place,” he said without looking up from the pot. “It’s fine craftsmanship, where did you get it?” 

“I bought it. Can you leave now?” 

“This place is nice, mind if I stay.” He grunted the last few words as he swung the pot at Raqel’s head. The move caught her completely off guard and the pot smashed across her skull. She dropped to the ground, her head smacking against the chair, leaving her unconscious. “It’s a shame to have things come to this, but I had no choice.” There was a knock at the door. 

“Raqel, is everything alright? It’s Ancus.” 

“Everything is fine,” he answered, not even bothering to disguise his voice. 

“Who’s that? Who are you?” 

“I’m courting her, now leave us be. We wish to have some… alone time.” The grin on his face grew larger with every word. 

“Oh… Alright…” H wasn’t sure if this Ancus fellow had left yet, but he didn’t want to waste time, Raqel would no doubt be awake soon. She was already beginning to stir. Things would not be as rewarding with her in this condition, but he wanted her just that bad. 

Just as the Dunmer placed his mouth on hers, Raqel’s eyes opened. She realized he didn’t notice that she was awake as he tried to probe her mouth with his tongue. Just as it entered, Raqel bit down as hard as she could. He tried to pull back, noticing his mistake, but she held on tight. Her teeth had drawn blood before she finally let go. “Get out of here before I kill you!” The Dunmer made no hesitation as he bolted for the door, holding his mouth with both hands to hold back the blood. Raqel would kill any man who tried to put her in a situation she had been in many years ago, when she was young. The pain had been excruciating, and she had bled severely, but all of that changed. She was strong now, unlike before. If he ever tried that again, she swore she would kill him, and not hold back. 

 

Raqel took a few days rest before she decided to return to the Arena to finish off the last of the Yellow Team. As she walked in, she bumped into the Yellow Team’s champion again. “So, it’s Hero now, isn’t it?” she asked, almost as an insult. “I suppose the little urchin wants to be Champion. Bah! You will never join our ranks! We are Gods among mortals! Know this- if you truly wish to become a Champion, you’ll have to go through me.” 

“Easy enough,” she sneered. 

“I will make you beg for death,” the Nord countered. 

“Care to try?” 

“You don’t even rank up. Don’t expect a Champion to fight an underling unless they have earned it. And you haven’t earned it yet.” 

“We’ll see who gets the last laugh.” The Yellow Team Champion pushed past her, nearly knocking Raqel over. She chuckled a little, then continued toward Owyn. As she passed Ysabel, the Battle Matron, she glared at the Dunmer Gladiator from the other side of the punching bag. He almost seemed suruprised to see her, which amused Raqel greatly. Owyn greeted her with open arms as she approached. 

“You’re a Hero, my friend! That crowd is out there for one reason: to see you destroy the Yellow Team! Now give them what they want.” 

“You know I will. Who’s next?” 

“The first Yellow Team Hero you’ll face is an Imperial in Heavy Raiment. He fights with an Akaviri Katana. Thing is, this guy used to be a Blade. You know, those guys who protect the Emperor? He’s a trained swordsman, so keep your damn head down!” 

“Apparently he didn’t do too well in their ranks. The Emperor is dead and he’s here as a Arena Hero, heh.” 

“Just go give that crowd what they came here for. A blood bath from yours truly.” As Raqel made her way past the Red Room she wondered if this Hero she was about to face was the blade she had run into only a few weeks before. When she reached the caged area, the announcer spoke as always. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Arena! Behold as these two Hero’s meet in the fighting pit for and epic battle worthy of song! Combatants, begin!” 

When the gate was lowered Raqel charged out, determined to answer her question. When the ex-Blade met her in the center of the ring, she was relieved. The Blade was not the one she had me tearlier, but one of his other comrades. With a slight push, Raqel separated herself from the other combatant. They circled around each other for a short while, their eyes locked together. The Blade broke their contact by charging forward. Raqel had barely enough time to bring up her ebony shield go block the blow. She stumbled backward slightly, giving the Blade another chance to attack. He swung hard, but his aim was slightly off. His blade landed on her right wrist, knocking Umbra from her grip. The strike was hard, but bounced off her metal wristband, only bruising the flesh and bone below. 

As the Blade struck out again, Raqel brought up her shield and pushed back against him. When he lost his footing, she threw down the shield and tackled him. The hit took both his shield and katana from his hands. They struggled on the ground for a while. It wasn’t clear who was winning, or even who would win. When Raqel was thrown to her back again, she improvised. The Blade knew she always had a dagger handy and saw that she reached for her belt. When she moved, he immediately stopped her before the blade could be drawn. While his attention was on her one hand, she used the other to actually draw the dagger. By the time the blade realized his mistake, it was too late; Raqel had drove the small blade into his neck, severing his jugular. His jaw went slack as he fell to the ground and bled out. Raqel retrieved her blades and shield before she returned to the Bloodworks. 

Owyn greeted her warmly as she entered the training area. “Beating an Arena Hero is one thing, but a former member of the Blades? You must be blessed by the Divines or something, my friend. Get some rest, you look like you need it.” 

“No kidding.” Raqel sulked to her corner, but not before shooting a deadly glare to the Dunmer that had tried to force her. She rested lightly on a bedroll, aware of all her surroundings. She heard the grunting from the Yellow Team Champion as she brutally massacred the wood dummy with an axe. She paid more attention to the steady thwack of arrows to a hay bale, just to be sure the Gladiator wasn’t getting any ideas. When she was ready, she returned to Owyn. “Who’s next on the chopping block?” 

“Next is a High Elf Wizard, a master in the school of Destruction. But wait, it gets worse… He also uses an enchanted shield called the Grey Aegis, which gives him some serious magic resistance.” 

“Not that I use magic anyway.” 

“Your best bet is to just charge right in an attack as always! And don’t give him a chance to let off a spell! I don’t want to have to sweep your ashes out of the Arena!” 

“As you would say, I’ll teach this High Elf the meaning of humility!” Raqel walked the familiar path back up to the Arena. She didn’t pay attention to the announcer. It was always the same, with some variation of rank among other things. She focused more on her opponent. His raiment didn’t matter, Umbra could cut through that with no problem, she wanted to see this shield of his. From her point of view, it looked to be of mithril make, fairly nice, even for a Hero in the Arena and a Mage. Her biggest concern was the possibility of him using a disintegrate weapon or armor spell and how her equipment would stand up to it. 

She was still thinking as the gates lowered, but was ready none the less. The Altmer let go a fire spell as so an he was able. Raqel dodged it easy, but was surprised by the following shock spell. It halted all control of her muscles as a shockwave flowed through her. She partially dove as her legs gave out and she hit the ground. Raqel rolled before the Altmer had a chance to use his blade against her. She struggled to get to her feet but was able to keep her balance. What she wouldn’t give to have a bow right about now. 

She knew the Altmer would be weak against a frontal attack, so she charged straight in once her legs were moveable. The spell caster tried to push her back with both blade and shield, but to no avail. His arms got caught up in her shield as she pushed back against him. While he was distracted, she dropped both her shield and sword, grabbing his skull with her free hands. With all the force she could manage, she met his teeth to her knee guard. Several Broken teeth fell to the ground while the Altmer tried to recover. He was, however, to slow for Raqel’s movements. Within seconds she had grabbed her dagger, and drove it into his chest several times with more force than his raiment could handle. Several places in his armor were dented, not just from the blade, before he fell to the ground in a pile of bloodied sand. 

She used a handful of sand to soak up the blood from her armor before heading back down. Unlike every other time, the Dunmer was not there to congratulate her on her victory. She wasn’t complaining, but there was an awkward feel to the air. “I’ll be honest with you, Hero,” greeted Owyn as she approached, “with the kinds of wins you’ve been having I knew that elf didn’t stand a chance. Here’s your gold.” 

“Kahjiit got your tongue? You normally have a big speech prepared, but now you almost seem short on words.” 

“It’s just, this last fight will be your last fight against the Yellow Team. When you walk up there the people recognize you as the Hero who singlehandedly brought the Yellow Team to it’s knees!” 

“So who is my next match against?” 

“This really is it! You could say they saved the best for last. The three best actually. You’re up against a swordsman, an archer, and a spell caster. Two lower level combatants and that Yellow Team Champion you’ve seen down here. You beat all three and you get named Champion! I know you can do this! Now go up there and show everyone why you’re the best!” Just as Raqel turned, Owyn caught her shoulder. “Oh wait, before I forget, there’s one more thing. I sent Porkchop the boar up to the Arena to help you out. He’ll at least keep one of them distracted! Now good luck!” 

Raqel waited to see if he had anything elst to say, but left quickly when he shooed her off. Sure enough, just as Owyn said, the boar was waiting impatiently behind the gate. Now that Raqel got a closer look at the boar she saw several scars and scrapes that didn’t heal properly that covered his body. No doubt Porkchop had seen man battles and could possibly be more of a help than she first believed. 

Through the gates, Raqel could see the Champion conversing with her companions, undoubtedly plotting how to take her down. The two combatants with the 

Champion seemed nervous, signifying they were probably low ranked, most likely Blood Letter or lower. If that boar could keep the two inexperienced fighters busy, this battle could be easier than expected. The Yellow Team Champion no doubt saw Raqel’s smirk because she shot her the evilest, most blood thirsty glance Raqel had ever seen. This could be quite interesting. 

Before either teams expected it, the gates had lowered, starting the hardest battle either had been in. Porkchop, of course, had been ready and charged out ahead of Raqel. The boar immediately went after the archer, leaving the reigning Champion and the spell caster to Raqel. She kept up her shield to block the swordsman’s blow but also stayed positioned so there was someone or something between her and the spell caster. When the archer screamed in pain from a gash in her leg, the Yellow Team Champion shouted for the spell caster to assist her. While the Champion was distracted, Raqel took the chance to knock her off balance. She failed in her attempt, but her boot had left a nice bruise on the Champion’s calf. The Nord retaliated with an overhead strike, but Raqel blocked it easily. Both circled each other for what felt like an eternity while the two underlings struggled with Porkchop. Before either competitors had landed a good blow, the spell caster and Porkchop lay defeated in their own blood. The archer, however, was unable to move due to her torn up leg. 

The crowd started to get bored as the two experienced competitors circled eachother. Without the two underlings in her way, Raqel figured she had already won. Quickly planning how to best the Champion, Raqel improvised from her original plan. Before the Nord had comprehended what was happening, Raqel rushed her, shield up, knocking her back. Without wasting time Raqel swung Umbra as hard as her muscles would allow, cutting deep into the Nord’s side. The champion screamed in pain and shock, not expecting such a powerful blow from this unlikely weakling. Before she could react, Raqel had struck down on the Champions shoulder. Her blade bounced back off the raiment, but the force had broken the bone underneath. The Yellow Team Champion dropped to her knees under the force of the blow. Raqel lifted Umbra above her head, intending to end the battle in a final swing. Before she could move, and arrow pierced her shoulder plate, the tip of the arrowhead implanting itself in the bone. Raqel spun, bloodlust in her eyes. Just as she was about to move on her prey, the Nord had taken her chance and, with all the force she could manage, slashed her elven blade across Raqel’s back, from shoulder to hip. As Raqel fell, she recognized that move from one of her previous fights, the one with the Argonian prisoners. She was determined not to die from her own move. Once her knees hit the ground, another arrow hit her other sholder, but barely broke the skin below. Raqel listened intently to the footsteps behind her, carefully estimating the distance. Once the footsteps stopped, and the Nord laughed, Raqel moved. Faster than anyone had thought possible, she had gripped Umbra’s hilt, and drove the black blade through the Champion’s lower abdomen. As she withdrew the blade, she angled it up until it was stopped by the Nord’s ribcage. The Champion fell to the ground behind her, astonished by who had just bested her. 

The archer, still breathing, took aim at Raqel, but was unable to stop shaking in fear. While the archer hesitated, Raqel slowly stood up, grabbing a large stone in the process. Before another shot could be let off, she threw the stone, knocking the bow from the archer’s grip. The archer scrambled backward, still unable to walk, as Raqel approached. Raqel planted a large boot on the archer’s chest. Since the archer was pinned and unable to moce, Raqel made a split decision on her manner of death. All calm like, she placed the tip of Umbra’s blade to the Archer’s forehead. With all the force necessary, Raqel secured her place as Champion.


	7. Chapter 7

Raqel staggered through the Bloodworks while Owyn praised her. The pain was immense, but tolerable. “You did it! You beat them! Every last one! Do you know how long it will take for the Yellow Team to recover from this?” 

“Do I look like I care? Just help me get these arrows out!” 

Owyn continued to compliment her, despite Raqel’s comment. “My friend, it is with great honor that I advance you to the rank of Champion! You’ve done it! You’ve shown them that you’re the best! Well, almost the best.” 

“We can go over the formalities later, just get me a damn healer!” she shouted, pulling the arrow out of the front of her shoulder. She cringed as blood started to drip through the wound. As Owyn left, she attempted to pull the one from her back, but the pain was too great and the arrow would not budge. Raqel did her best to get comfortable while Owyn was away, but it was difficult. It seemed like Owyn had been gone for hours when he finally showed up in his bloodworks. Behind him was an Altmer female. All Altmer where tall, she was no exception. Her long and elegant face was framed by beautiful golden locks. As she spoke, her voice was even and calm, showing much practice in the school of restoration. 

“Please, lay down on your stomach.” Raqel did as she was told, not knowing what to expect. She felt the arrow shift slightly as the Altmer gripped it. “This may hurt.” Raqel closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, knowing that what the Altmer said was true. Raqel’s scream could be heard throughout the Arena district, out voicing even the cheers from the crowd watching the current battle. With a final tug, the arrow came loose. “The worst is over now,” she said before muttering some words that Raqel couldn’t comprehend. She didn’t exactly understand the art of healing, but within seconds the pain from her wounds was gone. “I healed your injuries, but scars still remain.” 

Raqel reached for her coin purse, intending to pay the Altmer, but the healer refused. “It was my pleasure, I was glad to help. It’s all in a days work for me.” 

“At least tell me your name.” 

“Tyrie Nervosa, newly inducted to the Arcane University, and expert in the school of restoration. And you?” 

“Raqel Va… well, I’d rather not state my full name, it brings back too many painful memories.” 

“Very well the, Raqel. Come to me if you ever need healing, you can find me strolling around the University at most times of the day.” 

“Doubt I’ll need it, but thank you. It’s greatly appreciated.” Tyrie simply nodded before walking off. Once she was gone, Owyn approached. 

“You’re done competing in normal Arena matches. But there’s still the Grand Champion. Kid, you’ve got more guts. And skill. I think you can take the Grey Prince.” 

“Maybe so, but I need some rest before I even think about continuing this escapade.” 

“You’re probably right. I don’t think anyone has ever achieved what you’ve just done. Becoming champion in less than a month, it’s unheard of!” 

“Yeah, yeah, stop with the praise and let me rest, alright?” Owyn did as he was told and walked off. Raqel could tell that Owyn wasn’t used to taking orders from others, but it wasn’t like he had to. He just did. 

After a quick meal and a power nap, Raqel was rearing to go. She thought for a while about the possibility of being the Grand Champion of the Arena, which caused her to reflect on past happenings. It was an odd thing, her life. There was always fluctuations in the events that happened to her. For every good thing that occurred, there was always something equally bad or worse to happen. Se stopped swelling on the past and focused toward the future. Raqel figured that getting to know her opponent would be a good idea, possibly she could even learn his weakness. The only other combatants still in the bloodworks was an over conditioned Orc, butchering a practice dummy, and the Dunmer Gladiator. She figured that the Orc must be the Grey Prince, mostly because he was wearing a red raiment, not a blue or yellow one. 

“Grey Prince?” she asked as she approached. 

“Yes, it’s what everyone calls me. I guess I’m partly to blame. I’ve never made it a secret that I’m only half Orc. I’m a Lord’s son, but I’ve been denied the noble privlage to which I’m entitled. So I have become the Grey Prince, noble in my own right. Still… If I could somehow prove who I really am, and show the world that an Orc can be noble in blood as well as deed… Maybe… Yes! You could help me!” 

“What? Me? Help you?” she tried to refuse, waving her hands back and forth in front of her. 

“I grew up here in the Imperial city, but I was born elsewhere. My mother was a servant in the employ of Lord Lovidicus, and resided in his fortress. Lady Lovidicus was a shrew of a woman. The lord and my mother grew close, and ultimately fell in love. I was the result of their union. When Lady Lovidicus learned of my birth she was furious, and threatened to kill both my mother and me. So we fled, leaving my nobility behind.” 

“Cut to the chase, bastard Orc.” 

“No need to get rude, I didn’t mean to ramble. Go to Crowhaven, to the west, take his key. It unlocks… something that holds proof of my birth.” 

“Why should I do this for you? What would I get from it?” 

“Find this proof, return it to me, and I’ll share with you some of my finest combat techniques. Trust me, you can’t learn these in a book!” Maybe a quick trip west would be worth it in the ed. After all, she could use his own moves to kill him like the ex-Champion almost did. 

“Alright, show me where Crowhaven is,” she ordered, pulling out her map of Cyrodiil. The Orc pointed to a fort near Anvil. It would be a long trip, but possibly worth more than she had expected in the end. 

She walked casually back to the Waterfront, intending to start this quest before the sun came up the next day. While passing the still docked Marie Elena, Raqel saw Puny Ancus pacing around uncomfortably. Before she could even speak, he poured his problems on her. “Thank the Gods you’re here!” he blurted, running up to her. “You can save me from the blasted Orc!” 

“Slow down, Ancus, what Orc?” 

“That huge green bouncer from the Bloated Float! I… I got hungry around our usual lunchtime, but only had an apple left, which I was saving for dinner. So, naturally I checked the barrels by the entrance to the barge. Just as I got out a bread loaf, that Orc came outside. I don’t know if he saw me or not, but I just ran.” 

Raqel rolled her eyes. The two of them had looted the Bloated Float storage containers many times, but one of them had always kept an eye out for trouble. Because Raqel no longer had to steal food, Ancus had lost the eyes in the back of his head. “Do you still have the bread loaf?” 

“N…no… I ate it after I was sure the Orc didn’t follow. I said I was hungry.” 

“Are you even sure he saw you?” 

“No… but what if he did! I don’t stand a chance against him! Surely a Champion of the Arena could protect me.” 

“How did you hear about that? It only just happened.” 

“I’ve been saving up to watch a match. Once you joined the Arena I knew you would go far. I waited until I was sure when the match would happen, then bet all the gold I had.” 

“That could be a lot of money, who did you bet on?” she inquired, curious about his answer. 

“You, of course. If you had found out that I had bed against you, you would have killed me like you did that Nord!” 

“Good thing you did then.” 

“So then, will you help me with my problem?” 

“Okay, since we don’t know exactly what could happen, take the key to my house. I’m going on a little adventure for the next few days, so you can use the house as you see fit. I’m leaving before sunrise tomorrow.” 

“Where will you sleep for the night? It’s not like you’ll sleep outside again after you’ve tasted the comfort of a bed.” 

“No, I won’t. I still have the Marie Elena to use, remember? In any case, all I have to do is fill my bag with all I need for a quick trip to Anvil, then the house is all yours.” 

“Anvil? What could you possibly have to do there?” 

“Just an errand before I claim the crown of the Grey Prince and call myself the Grand Champion.” 

“No way, he can’t be beat. I love you as a sister, and all, but no one can beat him. Not even you.” 

“We’ll see what happens when I get back.” Raqel left at that, disappointed that Ancus would doubt her. Sure the Grey Prince was the reigning Grand Champ, but he was getting too old to be competing in Arena matches. None the less, the fight to come would be the ultimate test of her abilities yet. Raqel quickly packed a weeks worth of food and some extra clothing and light armor. She thought about bringing her raiment, but it needed to be repaired and would just get in the way. Within the hour she was ready to go. 

The Marie Elena was more rickety than she last remembered, but it was nothing to worry about. The bed was more comfortable than the one in her house. 

 

After a good nights sleep, Raqel was up before dawn. Knowing that she was in for a long trip, she grabbed a few carrots before she left. As she walked through the outside gate of the Talos Plaza district, she eyed up the horses, looking for the best one. Neither of the stablehands where up yet, meaning this theft would be all too easy. Of all the horses, there was a black one that showed more muscle definition and more experience in it’s movements. Raqel decided that would be the horse she would coax away from the rest. Silently, she approached it, carrots at hand. Immediately the horse’s ears perked up, smelling the carrots. Raqel backed up slowly, away from the stables. All the while the horse continued to follow. Once she had the horse clear of the stables, she rewarded it with a few carrots, but not all. While the horse was still calm, she attempted to mount it. Not having ridden a horse for several years, she was a little rusty, but she would manage. The horse didn’t stir under her weight so she treated it with the last carrots. Now that she had a horse to ride, Raqel’s trip would be much easier. 

 

After a half day’s ride through unfamiliar territory, Raqel’s trip had finally come to an end. She had reached Crowhavedn just after the sun was highest. Expecting the worst, she tethered the black horse to a distant tree. She unpacked her bow, glad she had thought to bring it, and continued to the ruined fort. Just outside the entrance was two living skeletons. One wielded a sword while the second was an archer. Raqel groaned aloud in frustration, but not loud enough for the skeletons to notice her. With a practiced aim, she dispatched the artcher with a correctly placed arrow to the spine, without alerting the other. Raqel had to shift slightly to target the undead swordsman, but once she was able it was out of the way for good. 

She drew her sword, cautiously continuing forward, not knowing what to expect. She reached the door leading down to the depths of Crowhaven with no other instances. The halls were very linear, not differing much from other forts. Only once did she encounter wildlife. She was just about to descend a staircase when she heard the scuffing of clawed feet on stone. Raqel knocked an arrow, noticing two timber wolves on the floor below. She struck the first one down quickly, but the other noticed the death of it’s companion. He rushed Raqel, moving faster than she, and knocked her to the ground. She held her bow at its throat, just keeping its threatening jaws from tearing off her face. Thinking faster than she ever had before, she flipped the bow, getting the string behind the wolf’s head. Yanking, with all the strength she could muster, Raqel pulled the bow to one side, making the wolf loose it’s balance and tumble off her. Before it had a chance to react, she gripped the dagger at her belt and drove it into the base of the wolf’s skull. She heard metal scraping bone, signaling she hit her target. 

Wiping her forehead of sweat and drool from the wolf, she continued cautiously on. Because Raqel’s last encounter had broken her bow, she hoped not to have too much opposition. It was smooth sailing from that point until she reached a locked door. Remembering the key from the Grey Prince had given her, she pushed it into the lock. With a click, the door opened noisily. 

“Who’s there?” a voice rang through the corridor. She cursed her luck as she crouched down to avoid being seen. Sword drawn, she crept down a flight of stairs as possible. Cursing her luck again, a stone she had kicked on accident tumbled down the staircase. The man noticed the noise, but not her. “Damn rats, scurrying around in the dark.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That was as far as I got with the typing up of the original VS. Its terrible in my mind, which is why I rewrote it. When I was about halfway through the revamped version of VS (yes, pun intended) I wrote up how this one might have ended. The original was just going to end with Raqel's death, and that would be that, but I am cruel to my characters.

Raqel could see Branwen pacing behind the other arena gate, her face contorted in determination while they waited. The anger on her face had not left since the day Raqel slew Saliith 

She didn't expect to leave the Arena alive, but she knew she would not be missed. Janus had no doubt moved on by now, and her kids still resided in Skingrad with little or no memory of her, and she had passed the Grey Cowl and title of Grey Fox onto Armand Christophe. All of her lose ends had been tied. 

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Imperial City, welcome to the Arena! We have a special treat for you today, someone has actually challenged Nightfang! The Great Shinji is probably turning over in his grave in anticipation for this battle of epic proportions! So, without further ado, let the battle begin!" The gate lowered, quickly but it was much to slow for Branwen. Once it disappeared underground, she bolted for the center. Raqel leisurely walked out, in an almost bored fashion. Before Raqel could even cross half the distance, Branwen jumped her. She was slow in comparison to Raqel, and much slower than she was used to, but she had brute strength to make up for it. Every blow was taxing, but Raqel held up to the beating. She focused on defense while Branwen tired herself out. Branwen's footing slipped on rain soaked sand as she attacked, giving Raqel the chance she needed. Raqel got behind her, and cut down from her shoulder to her hip. Branwen screamed, landing in a puddle soon tinted with her blood. She pushed herself onto her back, groaning with effort. Raqel walked to her, intending to end the battle with a final stroke. However, just as she was about to plunge her faithful Umbra into her chest, Branwen gripped her own sword and drove it into Raqel's stomach. She dropped to her knees, painfully coughing up blood. A smile spread across her lips as her vision started to fade, but a small voice brought her back. "Mommy!" She looked up to see Issandi trying to crawl over the railing of the stands, but Eyja was pulling her back. Acktai stood next to them, the strangest kind of puppy in his arms, with a dark figure by his side. She then recognized the figure to be Janus. At long last he had come for her. 

Raqel got to her feet with a new resolve. She would win, she had to. Branwen watched with awe as her opponent stood, sword at hand. Raqel removed Branwen's weapon from her abdomen, holding the bloodied hilt to it's owner. Branwen still didn't move, she just stared. "Get up," she demanded her. Branwen didn't seem to comprehend her words. "Get up!" She fumbled, straining to get to her feet. Raqel lunged first, catching Branwen's left shoulder on the downswing. Her arm hung limp as it bleed severely. Enranged, Branwen attacked back. Raqel was lithe and agile, even as she clutched her fatal wound. Feeling her strength draining rapidly, Raqel twisted Branwen's weapon from her hand. In one swift movement, she decapitated her opponent. The crowd roared in approval. 

"And the battle is won! Esteemed Grand Champion, leave the arena now, and rest. You've- What's this? Ladies and gentlement, Nightfang has fallen!" The crowd gasped as Raqel hit the ground. The red of her eyes faded, but the smile on her face widened. 

Both Acktai and Issandi struggled to free themselves, but Eyja and Janus held them close. "Mommy!" Issandi screamed, choking on her tears. 

"Ladies and gentlement, behold the greatest fighter this Arena has seen since Gaiden Shinji, himself! She embodied everything needed to survive in this place of conflict. Strength, agility, dexterity, and determination. But now, she takes her place at the right hand of the brilliant mind that birthed the Arena. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Raqel Vanpiir, our Grand Champion, Nightfang." Another wave of gasps swept over the crowd as the sun peaked around the clouds. Raqel's skin started smoking slightly, then more noticeably as she seemed to burn from the inside out. The murmurs and whispers went silent as her body turned into nothing but a pile of ash. Raqel Vanpiir was no more. 

Here ends the original VS. Upcoming is the epilogue (and additional comments on the ending). 

Issandi turned and burried her face is Eyja's dress, crying and whimpering. Acktai was biting his lip, the skinned hound puppy in his arms licking the tears off his cheek. He looked up at Janus, noticing the shudder to his chest as soft tears glistened behind the shadow of the hood over his face. "Daddy...?" he sniffled, pulling at the dark robes. 

"Hush," he shuddered, another sob running through him. He clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, thoughts racing through his mind until they dissolved into nothing. 

"A vampire! No wonder she was able to kill Agronak. She got what was comin' to her," a patron nearby whispered. Janus clenched his jaw, using all of his willpower to keep from moving against the idiot who dared foul her name. 

"Eyja, let us leave this place. There's... nothing else for us here." The Nord maid looked at him, her brows furrowed, but nodded. Picking up little Issandi in her arms, she carried her out through the doors as Janus led Acktai by the hand. 

 

____ 

 

In the days, weeks, months, and years that followed, little else changed. 

Janus mourned the loss of two loves, the last greater than the first, but still did all he could to raise his children right. Eyja was a tremendous help, and was able to watch over them while he needed to be away from life for a while. He continued his life as the Count of Skingrad, but not for much longer. Within a decade, he resigned, and moved out into the Colovian Highlands. The city only reminded him of what he had, and what he lost. He was never quite the same man again. 

Issandi perhaps took her mother's death the hardest of the two children. When she was old enough, she ran away from the only home she knew in search of better things. When she ended up in the Imperial City, she headed immediately for the Arena district. It looked the exact same as it did that day, and she swore she saw the faint outline of where her mother's ashes once lay. Scarred and heartbroken, she joined the Arena, determined to put a Vanpiir back in place as Grand Champion. She never made it. At the rank of Gladiator, she was slain. 

Acktai, like his father, retreated into himself. He hardly left his room, let alone spoke. Many thought he had been driven mad, affected so deeply by watching his mother's death. When he was older, he traveled to various ruins, seeking out anyone and anything to slay and keep his mind off of what had happened in his past. The thoughts never left him alone. On several occasions he came across a nest of vampires. On one such occasion, he was not as prepared as he should have been, and was caught off guard by several of them. Instead of being killed, like he expected, they turned him. The thirst corrupted his already weak mind, and he is now one of the worst known vampires to wander the Empire. 

As his children grew up and left home, Janus grew progressively worse. Eyja remained as a maid and servant, knowing the once-Count needed help. When Issandi was killed, he refused to talk to anyone outside of the estate, but when Acktai was turned, something inside him changed. He had a hardened look in his eye, and he hardly spoke at all. One day, he up and left the estate, in search of someone who could help him. He found Melisande once more, and after a bit of work, she made him another cure. When he brought it back to the estate, Eyja thought he had intended to seek out Acktai and make him mortal again. But what she found the next day astonished her. Janus was slumped over at his desk, the cure bottle shattered on the ground beside him. Empty. Eyja shrieked and ran out of the estate, looking for help, but there was none to be had. He took the cure, and it affected him much like it did Rona. His mortal life force had long since run out, so there was nothing left for him to fall back on once his immortality was gone. 

Acktai remained the only Hassildor in Cyrodiil for centuries, until one adventurer happened to need a cure for vampirism. He was the best possible source for ashes, and was felled. 

 

And so ended the Hassildor line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of this work, it will never be filled in. Refer to Vampire's Secrets Revamped for more of this story.


End file.
